


i want to write you a song

by binchmarner, PeaceSign_MiddleFinger



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Conor Timmins Suffers, Conor Timmins' arms, Fall Out Boy Lyrics, Flirting, Flirting Via Songs, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Porn With Plot, Safe Sane and Consensual, Spanking, That is all, Writing songs as a love language, basically they're fall out boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 14:37:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21459682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/binchmarner/pseuds/binchmarner, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeaceSign_MiddleFinger/pseuds/PeaceSign_MiddleFinger
Summary: Cale Makar works as the social media manager for the Denver based band, the 'Diques. Conor Timmins, the front man, is falling for him. A song Conor writes might just bring them together.
Relationships: Cale Makar/Conor Timmins, J. T. Compher/Tyson Jost/Alexander Kerfoot, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Samuel Girard/Erik Johnson, Tyson Barrie/Colin Wilson
Comments: 16
Kudos: 51





	i want to write you a song

**Author's Note:**

> thank you sun and chuck for beta-ing this!!! we love you <3 
> 
> title of the story taken from One Direction's [i want to write you a song.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BxyGSa730CM)

“Sound check,” Josty calls from the back of the house. “Sing us the song of your people, Conor.”

“Uh,” Conor snorts. “Twinkle twinkle little star?”

“Wow. Really? I took you for more of an otter,” JT says, the corners of his lips turning up when Conor blanches.

Conor is trying to come up with a snappy comeback for that when he’s distracted by a chuckle from just offstage. Cale is trying valiantly to hide his pink cheeks and smirk behind his camera, but it’s not really working. 

“You better not be putting this on Instagram,” Alexander scolds him. 

“Oh no, this is for 'Diques use only.”

Conor kind of wants to die. 

“Just because EJ isn’t here yet doesn’t mean you have to enable him,” Conor says, his cheeks flushing as he turns to look at his bassist, Sammy. “EJ doesn’t see this.”

“I do not control what he does, Conor,” Sam shrugs, grinning when Alexander scoffs.

“Sure, and Tyson isn’t loud in bed.” JT says.

“Which one?” Colin calls, reminding them they’re all mic’d up.

“Does it matter?” Alexander replies.

“Can we please just get through soundcheck, guys? We can all harass both the Tysons about their bedroom habits after, but we do have a show tonight and I kind of want it to not suck. If that’s okay with all of you?” 

Conor sometimes wonders why he decided that he wanted to join a band with these idiots. Then Josty counts them in, and they start to play, and he remembers.

They’re fucking awesome. 

Josty fiddles with various sound levels, making each of them do their own thing solo and then again as a group until he’s happy with everything. 

“Is EJ coming in to do lights, or are we all set?” Josty asks. 

Sam grins wickedly. “We’re all set. He’s a little busy the rest of the afternoon.”

JT rolls his eyes, and Alexander makes retching noises.

“Oh my god, be more obvious next time,” Conor says, shaking his head.

“Okay. He’ll come in with bruises around his neck next time.” Sam says, then waits a moment in silence. “Jesus, I’m kidding.”

“Go, have fun, be horny. But be _on time_ and back here by 6:30,” Colin calls. 

“Now, about Tyson,” JT says, taking off his guitar. Josty’s head jerks up. 

“Oh no. Oh no, sir,” Josty says. “If you make fun of me you’re getting _none_ of this later.”

“Sure, okay.” Alexander rolls his eyes.

Conor loves his bandmates, really, he does, but they’re all a bunch of horny menaces. Mostly it’s funny, but it does sometimes make him wish he had his own boyfriend to keep him occupied between shows. 

He heads backstage and nearly runs over Cale, who’s standing in the middle of the aisle scrolling through his phone. 

“Shit, sorry!” Conor apologizes, but Cale brushes him off.

“No, no, it was totally my fault. I shouldn’t have been standing where people were walking. But hey, check out some of these shots I got! Definitely prime Insta material.” He holds his phone up, and Conor steps closer to see the photos as Cale scrolls through them. 

They’re good, but Conor is more focused on where Cale’s body is touching his and how he can smell Cale’s shampoo. He _ knows_ getting involved with a crew member, especially one having so much to do with the band in their day-to-day life, is a bad idea, but he wants it. 

And he’s wanted it for the past four months, since he met Cale at the beginning of the tour.

“The glare on that photo of JT is really cool,” Conor manages to get out. When he moves to look up at Cale, Cale’s already looking at him, smiling so _wide,_ and oh, Conor’s so fucked.

“You think so? I’ve been trying that in edits lately. I think it looks really cool,” Cale says, knocking his shoulder against Conor’s. “Thanks.” 

Conor shoots his shot. “Do you wanna get dinner with me before the show? To talk about, you know, photography and stuff,” he flushes. “We don’t know each other that well, and I want to get to know everyone on the tour.”

_Nice backtrack, Timmins._

Cale grins up at him though and happily agrees. “Yeah, that would be awesome! It looks like there’s a great sushi place pretty close, if you want to try that?”

“Perfect. Um, want to leave at 4:30? I want to make sure we have enough time to get back for 6:30. I know that’s like old people dinner time, but that’s the glamorous life of a rockstar.” Conor cringes as he finishes his sentence. He really has no chill at all. 

Cale just laughs and bumps their shoulders together. “Great, see you at 4:30 then. I’d better get some work done before then.” He walks off and Conor takes a minute to just breathe. He has a date! Well, not a date, because he backpedaled off of that pretty quickly and then made a fool of himself, but Cale _did_ agree to get dinner with him, so like. It’s progress.

There’s only a moment of silence and privacy before he hears clapping behind him. He turns around, and it’s Barrie, grinning widely. 

“Nice going roomie! Gonna get something good for the spank bank?” Tyson asks.

“I’m locking you out of our room tonight, I swear to god,” Conor says. 

“You literally asked him out and then cockblocked yourself. There’s no reason for me to be outside my room,” Tyson raises his eyebrows. 

“Literally get fucked.” Conor snorts when Tyson looks over at Colin.

“Look, you know I’m _trying._ He’s just busy,” Tyson says, his cheeks flushing. 

Conor crosses his arms over his chest.

“Oh really? Hey Colin! Brutes wants to talk to you!” Conor calls to the back of the house. Tyson’s eyes widen and he presses a button on his walkie.

“No! No, everything’s fine, I just needed to talk about the… the show,” Tyson fumbles over his words, pulling the walkie away from his mouth. “What is the _matter_ with you?” he hisses.

“Oh, Tyson? Gonna get something for your spank bank?” Conor asks, cocking his head to the side and grinning before turning on his heel and walking away.

\---

Four-thirty pm comes both way faster than expected and not fast enough. Conor spends most of his free time bouncing between trying to fiddle with the lyrics to “Canadian Sweetheart” and scrolling mindlessly through his phone. Finally it’s close enough to 4:30 that he heads down the hall to Cale’s room. Colin opens the door when he knocks and invites him in. 

“Hey, Cale’s in the bathroom, but he said you guys were grabbing dinner.”

“Yeah, there’s a sushi place we’re going to go check out.” Conor’s not really sure what to say after that. Colin is literally the most friendly person in the world, but he’s also older and significantly more responsible than anyone else on the tour (well, Brutes is older, but he’s _definitely_ not more mature), so Conor is maybe a little bit intimidated by him. 

“Sounds good. I’m glad you guys are spending some time together. It’s always good when you’re close with your crew. It definitely makes things easier on long tours. You just have to be good about communicating, you know? It can be a lot, spending so much time with the same people. But you’re a good kid.” Colin claps a hand on Conor’s shoulder in a fatherly fashion. 

Conor is kind of confused by what just happened, but before he can dwell on it, Cale comes out of the bathroom. 

“Colin, which shirt do you think is better, the burgundy or the bl––Conor,” Cale says, very shirtless, eyes very wide, and face very red. The flush burns his cheeks and travels down his chest, and Conor almost chokes. He tries not to stare, but it’s hard because it’s… well, it’s Cale, for one thing. And holy fuck, he’s hot.

“Burgundy,” Conor blurts out. “It looks good with your complexion.”

Cale flushes darker, his gaze flitting to Colin. “Yeah, uh. Thanks, Con.”

Conor looks towards Colin because he needs to at least _try_ not to blatantly stare, and Colin is giving them both a considering look. Cale manages to get his shirt on in record time and he quickly shoves his feet in shoes. “Ready to go?”

“You two have fun. Be good to each other, and don’t forget that you need to be backstage at 5:30.” Colin waves them out the door and Conor is left feeling very overwhelmed. 

He shoves his hands in his pockets as they head towards the elevator. “Well, that sure happened.”

Cale giggles. “Yep, sure did. Don’t get me wrong, I love Colin, but sometimes he takes his role as tour dad a little too seriously. What does he think we’re going to get up to at a restaurant at 4:30 pm?”

Conor tries really, really hard not to blush at that. He can think of a few things he’d like to be getting up to with Cale right about now, but not at a restaurant. 

“Well, you know JT tried to eat that super spicy hot sauce from Papa Bees and was incapacitated for the entire night,” Conor says. “He probably doesn’t want us doing anything that would keep us from performing.”

“That’s true. I promise not to eat a mouthful of wasabi. Scout’s honor,” Cale says, holding up three fingers. Conor furrows his eyebrows.

“It’s your… index, middle, and ring finger. Not middle, ring, and pinky finger.” Conor says.

“I know,” Cale grins.

Unsurprisingly, conversation is easy after that. They fall into conversation so easily that their waitress has to come by three times before they’re finally ready to order, and Conor still just asks for whatever Cale ordered because he never actually looked at the menu. He just shrugs when Cale gives him a questioning look. “I dunno, you picked the place, I figured I should trust your judgement.”

Cale seems to accept it as an answer, and goes back to telling his story about forcing his little brother to play goalie when they played hockey as kids. “My brother hated it, but shooting at an empty net sucks. I always bribed him with candy though, so he’d do it.”

“That’s savage,” Conor laughs, “but also, I totally agree.” 

_I’d let you hit me with a puck for free,_ he doesn’t say, but if he thinks it, no one can judge him.

“You play?” Cale asks.

“I’m Canadian,” Conor levels him with a look. “I’m not JT.”

Cale snorts. “I see you, Timmins. One on one next time we’re in Denver.”

“Yeah?” Conor asks, leaning forward on the table. “What are we playing for?”

“Eternal glory?” Cale grins. “Bragging rights?”

“I don’t know, I _am_ kind of a big deal, I’m not sure the eternal glory of kicking your ass in hockey is going to compare to that,” Conor says, and Cale kicks him in the shin. 

“Okay, Mister big shot, what are we playing for then, if you’re too good for bragging rights?”

_Don’t say a blow job, don’t say a blow job, don’t say a blowjob_ Conor thinks to himself. “If I lose, you can post the video from soundcheck today. And if I win… you delete it. All of the copies. No backups. It’s gone forever.”

“Sure, sounds good to me.” Cale reaches across the table and they shake on it. 

Conor raises an eyebrow and smirks as he shakes Cale’s hand. “You’re gonna lose.”

“Yeah, sure,” Cale rolls his eyes. “I’m kind of a big deal in hockey back home.”

“Oh really?” Conor asks.

“Guess you’re gonna have to wait until we’re in Denver to find out.” Cale has the audacity to wink as he says that, and Conor has to fight the urge to either moan or face plant onto the table. 

“Alright, I guess I do.” His phone buzzes on the table, his alarm alerting him to the fact that they have 30 minutes before they have to be back at the venue. “I guess we should maybe eat all this sushi we ordered instead of making bets about hockey,” he says, and he and Cale manage to eat and pay and aren’t even late, no matter what Colin’s carefully raised eyebrow might indicate. 

“Everything good?” Colin asks. “You were both safe?”

“I--we went for sushi, Colin,” Cale says, his cheeks flushing. “I’ll see you in a bit Conor.”

Conor’s about to say something, just a little thing to scrap up some part of his dignity, but the door is closed before he gets the chance to. 

“That was. Okay?” Conor says, and heads to his room.

When he gets in, he sees Brutes sprawled out and hanging off of his bed eating sour patch kids dust out of the bag.

“Why.” is all Conor says.

“So, how was your date?” Brutes’ eyebrow waggle is even more ridiculous upside down and Conor wants to throw something at him. He considers for a moment and then strips off his shirt and balls it up before chucking it at Brutes’ face. What, he needed to change anyway. Tyson barely reacts, just pulls it off his face and drops it on the floor.

“Not a date. But it was good. Did you know he plays hockey?”

“Oh, does he now? Did you volunteer to show him your stick-handling skills?”

“Why are you like this?” Conor asks him. Tyson just grins and tips the sour patch kids bag up to pour the last of the dust into his mouth. 

“You love me,” he sing-songs. “What are you wearing tonight? Your black jeans make your ass look best, you should wear those.” 

“I––You think so?” Conor says, turning to look in the hotel’s floor length mirror. “Black bomber jacket too?”

“Hella,” Tyson says, incredibly interested. “Sounds like you’re dressing up more for someone else, huh?”

“Shut up. I’m _performing._ I want to look good.” Conor rolls his eyes.

“Maybe you’ll perform for him too. Bow chicka wow wow!” Tyson says.

“Alright,” Conor grabs his pillows and throws them at Tyson.

“They’re mine now! You can’t have them back!” Tyson yells, clutching onto the pillows and rolling off the bed.

“I wonder what Colin would say if I told him you were hoarding his lead singer’s pillows and preventing him from getting enough sleep,” Conor says, smirking. 

Tyson narrows his eyes. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I’m very serious about my sleep, Brutes. It’s important to vocal health.”

Tyson rolls his eyes. “If you were that concerned about your sleep, you wouldn’t let us room next to Sam and EJ.”

Tyson maybe has a point. His bassist and their lighting guy do tend to have very… enthusiastic sex, and hotel walls are thin. 

“Sometimes we make sacrifices for our art. I sacrifice sleep quality to have a happy bass player and a lighting designer who makes sure you can actually see us on stage. If you steal my pillows, I can’t cover my head with them to drown it out.”

Tyson narrows his eyes further. “You can have one.”

Conor rolls his eyes while he walks over to the head of Tyson’s bed and steals his pillows.

“Traitor!” Tyson says. 

“You can’t have these back,” Conor says, throwing them on his bed, but they’re interrupted by a knock on the door. 

“Guys?” Cale calls through the door. “Uh… we’ve gotta get going.”

“We’re not finished with this,” Tyson says.

\---

The rush of getting prepped for a show blurs together the way it always does. By the time their opener is coming off stage, Conor has completely removed all thoughts of dinner with Cale or his pillow war with Tyson from his mind. He’s in show mode. No matter how many times he does it, the roar of the crowd when the boys walk on stage never loses its thrill. Then they’re starting their first song, the audience is screaming his lyrics along with him, and they’re absolutely on fire. 

They play their full set, come back for two encores, and finally the night is over and they can leave the stage for real. They all collapse onto couches in the green room, sweaty and tired, but absolutely buzzing. 

“Another fucking great night,” says JT as Alexander leans against him on the couch, resting his head on JT’s shoulder. 

“Hell yeah, it was!” Josty crows as he comes bursting through the door. He plops himself onto JT’s lap and throws his legs over Alexander’s. “You guys killed it!”

Cale walks into the dressing room, camera around his neck. “You guys were amazing tonight, I got some killer shots to put up.”

“I bet they’re great,” Conor says, uncapping a bottle of water and downing it right there. When he pulls away, Cale’s cheeks are flushed and he’s staring at Conor.

Conor catches his eye and the flush deepens. They stay like that, looking at each other, for a long minute before Conor finally breaks away and coughs. “So, what’s the plan for the rest of the night then? I could use some food.”

“I am going to help Erik,” says Sam.

“Oh, is _that_ what the kids are calling it these days?” says JT, and Josty gives him a high five. 

“Help him with your _dick_, you mean,” Josty adds. Conor rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t disagree. They all know Sam likes to ogle EJ while he packs up the lighting board before they head back to the hotel and have crazy sex. 

“Don’t forget to use protection!” Brutes hollers.

Sam just waves a hand in the air like he can physically brush off their comments. “You are all just jealous.” With that, he heads out the door.

“Jealous of what?” Josty says, wriggling on JT’s lap, just to see the flush return to JT’s cheeks. “I can make sure you two aren’t that jealous later tonight.”

“I am _still_ in the room.” Conor says, throwing a look at Cale. 

“Yeah? Why don’t you go have a salad?” Alexander asks, raising an eyebrow. Cale furrows his.

“We… already went out to eat. Together.” Cale says.

“Did you now?” JT says, interested. “How’d that go?”

“We talked about hockey, and how basically everyone cultured except you plays hockey.” Conor shoots back. JT rolls his eyes, making a face at Conor.

“We also made a bet.” Cale grins.

“Was it a sex bet? It was a sex bet, wasn’t it?” Brutes pipes up from the corner. 

Cale turns a delightful pink that disappears below the collar of his shirt and Conor is almost too distracted by that to be embarrassed by Tyson’s remark. 

Conor regains his composure long enough to roll his eyes. “We’re not all horny disasters like you, Tys. Some of us can go longer than five minutes without thinking about sex.” 

“Sounds fake, but okay,” says JT.

Conor is going to murder his bandmates. And his crew. It’s fine, he can have a solo career, it’s totally cool. 

“If I win, I post the video from soundcheck, if I lose I delete it,” Cale says.

“Send it to me before you do,” Brutes says.

“Nope, absolutely not. If I win and he deletes it, _all_ the copies get deleted. If he wins, you can enjoy it on Insta with the rest of our fans.” Conor resists the urge to stick his tongue out at Tyson, but only barely. “Anyway, I think I’m calling it a night. I’m gonna head back to the hotel and try to get some sleep before the sex noises start.”

“Ooh, wait, I’ll walk back with you,” says Brutes. “I want to bounce some ideas off you for retaliation techniques.”

Conor rolls his eyes, but accepts that this is his life. “Alright, dude. Let’s go.”

\---

“No, _no._” Conor says, shaking his head as they walk into their room. “We’re not blasting Celine Dion.”

“It’ll drown out the noise!” Brutes says. “Or, _or_ we could battle out with our own noises.”

“If you mean blast porn I think we’re going to get thrown out of the hotel. I like this hotel, Barrie, it’s really nice,” Conor says. “The sheets are really soft.”

“No, bro, seriously, that’s a terrible idea. I mean we make our own sex noises, obviously.”

“Tys, I love you, but I am _not_ having sex with you just to get back at Sam and EJ.”

Tyson throws his head back as he sits on his bed, laughing. “Oh my god, that is not what I meant at all. I mean we put on our sex playlist and make fake sex noises. You know, just moan and bang on the wall and yell ‘harder’ and shit. Don’t tell me you’ve never done that before.”

Conor thinks for a minute. It’s objectively a bad idea, but it’s also kind of funny. “I don’t know. It depends. What’s on the sex playlist?”

“Celine, obviously!”

“Are you fu- Tyson, Celine Dion is not sex music.”

“Yes it is! Celine is perfect for all occasions!”

“Did you see Deadpool? That’s not the mood I’m looking for.”

“It’s a sensual song!”

“_She was dead, Tyson!_” Conor says, then pinches the bridge of his nose. “Is the song from the Titanic movie in there?”

“Of course _My Heart Will Go On_ is in the sex playlist, what do you take me for? A virgin?” Tyson asks.

“They died!” 

“_Sensually!_” 

“Oh my––if this doesn’t work you’re going onstage for the next show.” Conor says. 

“Wh––why?” Tyson asks. “Why would the stage manager go onstage?”

“Because I know it won’t and I’ll be exhausted,” Conor says.

“You just wanna stay behind with _Cale_,” Tyson fake swoons. “Maybe instead of moaning my name, you should moan Cale’s. _Oh, Cale! Harder! Faster!_”

“Okay, maybe never speak again,” Conor says, covering Tyson’s mouth with his hand. Unsurprisingly, Tyson licks his hand, so obviously he has to put Tyson in a headlock. Tyson is some sort of wrestling prodigy though, and somehow manages to wriggle his way out of the headlock and flip them despite Conor having 4 inches on him. They keep wrestling until they nearly fall off the bed, at which point Conor is willing to concede defeat for his own safety. 

Unfortunately, the peace is short-lived, because apparently EJ is done with packing up the equipment and he and Sam have made it back to their room. The noise starts out quiet enough, muffled voices that can’t really be understood through the walls, but then, clear as day, comes EJ’s voice. 

“Oh, fuck, _Daddy_”

Conor groans and buries his face in his pillows.

“That’s the spirit! But louder, and shake the bed next time,” Tyson says. “Like this.”

He kneels on the bed and starts moving, pounding his fists on the wall. “Oh _fuck,_ Conor. Your cock is _so big_.”

“Tyson Barrie!” Conor hisses.

“God, yes, just like that! Harder, _harder_.”

Conor flips him off and Tyson giggles. It’s almost loud enough to cover the rhythmic squeaking and pounding of the bed next door. 

“Yes, Conor, yes. Fuck me with your big horse cock.” Tyson bounces enthusiastically on his bed and pounds on the walls again.

“Oh my god, Tyson, _stop_. I’m going to kill you!”

“That’s right, fuck. Give it to me. Give me that cock, you stallion.”

Conor has 100% never been more horrified in his entire life, and the only way to get Tyson to stop, or at least back down, is to play along with him. 

Conor groans, deep and low, and moans. “Fuck, Tyson. C’mon, you’re so tight. Give it to me dirty, c’mon baby.”

Tyson’s eyes are wide as he looks over at him. “Okay, I did _not_ expect that to come out of your mouth.”

Conor grins, bouncing on the bed to make it squeak and pounding on the wall. “Fuck, baby, you’re so good.”

They go back and forth like that, grinning and trying to one-up each other with ridiculous phrases until they’re both collapsed on their beds in silent laughter. It’s blissfully quiet as they catch their breath. “Oh my god, it worked! Brutes, I am so sorry I doubted you. You were right.”

“And we didn’t even have to break out the Celine.”

“Alright, well. Bed?” 

Conor heads to the bathroom to brush his teeth while Tyson changes, and then they switch places. Before long, they’re in bed with the lights out. “Night, Tyson.”

“Goodnight, Conor.”

Conor is almost asleep when he hears it. “Oh, _fuck,_ Daddy, I’m gonna come.” He groans and presses a pillow over his head.

\---

There’s a period of time where the band has down time on the bus, so Conor’s finally working on the melody for his new song. He’s humming along to the lyrics in his head as he works with the chords on his guitar, so focused he barely hears Cale knock and walk into the main bedroom.

“What are you working on?” Cale says, sitting across from Conor on the bed. Conor looks up, closing the notebook immediately.

“Just a song. I want to show the boys later, see what they think,” Conor says. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing, really. Looking for something to do. I have all the posts for the next few days queued up and Alexander is the only one of the guys who’s willing to play board games with me, but he’s asleep, so mostly I’m bored out of my mind.”

“Well, I can hang out, if you want. I think I’m in a good place with the song, so we can play a game or something. I dunno, I have some movies on my phone, if you want, or we can listen to a podcast or something.”

Cale hesitates for a moment, like he’s thinking over the options. “I’ve got a headphone splitter. Want to listen to a podcast and just chill in here?”

Conor agrees and Cale gets up to go get his headphone splitter. Conor has a moment to panic because he’s not actually sure what podcast they’re going to listen to. Most of what he listens to is silly, and he’s not sure he actually wants Cale to know that about him. He opens his podcast app and scrolls through the suggested podcasts until he gets to _Imagined Life._ That’s something that looks interesting enough and also not embarrassing. He cues up an episode and settles on the bed to wait for Cale to come back.

It doesn’t take long for Cale to walk in quietly. “I’ve got the headphone splitter,” he says, holding it up. Conor grins widely.

“You’re gonna love what I’m gonna show you,” Conor says. “Ever imagined what it’d be like to be in a person’s shoes before they were famous?”

“That’s… really interesting, tell me more,” Cale says, settling on the bed next to him.

“This podcast takes you through what led to this person becoming famous. And you don’t know who it is until the podcast is over. It’s like a guessing game almost,” Conor says. He pulls the blanket from where it was pushed to the side. “Are you cold?”

Cale scoots a little closer. “Yeah, a little. I’d be down for some blanket if you don’t mind sharing.”

“I guess I can share,” Conor heaves a fake sigh. “Alright, give me that splitter, let’s get going. Do you want to pick or should I?”

Cale snuggles under the blanket and plugs his headphones into one half of the splitter before handing it over. “Surprise me.”

Conor plugs in his own headphones and then picks an episode at random. It’s incredibly cozy tucked into the bed next to Cale, and it’s easy to let his eyes drift shut as they sit there. Before long, he’s asleep.

He wakes up with Cale curled around him, head pillowed on his chest. He doesn’t want to move for fear of waking him up. He gently disentangles his phone from the mess of headphones and unlocks it, content to scroll through his various apps while Cale sleeps. He’s checking twitter when he notices EJ’s private personal account has posted. EJ doesn’t post a lot, mostly just uses it to harass his friends, but there on his timeline is a photo of him and Cale curled around each other in the bed. It’s almost unbearably soft and Conor isn’t sure how to react. He wants to treasure the photo, but he also feels strangely vulnerable, knowing EJ saw them like that.

“Hey,” Cale says, his voice rough as he looks up at Conor. He smiles, looking at him for a second before flushing. “I––”

“Don’t worry about it. I fell asleep too,” Conor says, leaning his head back against the pillows. Cale hums, hiding his face in Conor’s neck. 

“Sorry,” Cale says. “It was so soothing to listen to her talk about Audrey Hepburn.”

“You stayed awake until the end?” Conor asks.

“Until the next one played and then I was out,” Cale laughs, deep and oh, there are more feelings there. It takes all of Conor’s strength to not kiss Cale.

He doesn’t even know if Cale likes him like that. But after their little impromptu nap, there’s a glimmer of hope there.

\---

They’ve got a few free days in Kansas City before their next show, so Conor figures now is as good a time as any to show the boys the new song. They’re all crammed into his hotel room, Brutes sent off to flirt with Colin or do whatever else it is he does when they don’t have a show, and Conor is on the bed with his acoustic guitar and notebook. 

“Okay, so this is, well. Um. It’s not quite a love song, but I don’t really know what else to call it. Anyway, it’s called ‘Canada’s Sweetheart.’ Yeah.”

He’s not usually so awkward about playing songs for the band, but this one is personal. He takes a deep breath to steady himself and starts in on the chords before leading into the first verse. 

“So you finally wrote a song about Cale?” JT says when Conor finishes, from his place sitting on the bed in between Alexander’s legs. 

“What? No. I just––” Conor says, flushing dark. “It’s… no yeah. It’s about Cale.”

“It’s a nice song, Conor,” Sam says, smiling at him. “I think he’ll like it.”

“Oh no, I’m not––this is not, no I’m not going to sing this _to_ him.” Conor says. “This is a new single.”

“Well, he’s going to hear it either way. What are you going to do?” Alexander asks.

“Hope he’s not creeped out?” Conor says. JT sighs.

“Dude. He fell asleep on you while listening to podcasts with you,” he says. “Like cuddling.”

“Y’all slept together,” Alexander says.

“No. _No._ we fell asleep together, that’s completely different,” Conor says.

“Semantics,” scoffs Alexander. 

JT rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay, we get it, Harvard.” He presses a kiss to Alexander’s cheek after he says it though. “Anyway. The details are irrelevant. You don’t just cuddle in bed listening to podcasts with your bro. That’s not bro-homo. There’s no ‘no homo’-ing that, dude. That’s full homo. All the homo.”

“He’s right, you know,” Sam adds. 

“Guys. That’s not even the point. Is this worth playing or not? We can deal with… whatever feelings Cale may or may not have for me later, I just want to know if we should throw some new material into the set or not.”

“I mean, if you’re ready to profess your love for our social media manager in front of all of Kansas City, I’m in,” says JT, looking back at Alexander. Alexander nods and Sam does too.

“Well, I guess we are learning a new song,” says Sam. “Time for rehearsal.”

\----

“It’s everyone’s favorite time, sound check. Sing us a song from the set, since we can’t trust you to start singing from memory,” Josty calls. Conor sighs.

“It’s not my fault,” Conor begins, catching Cale’s eye in the house. “Besides, that video’s getting deleted anyway.”

“Deleted how? You going AI on us?” JT asks, pausing while tuning his guitar. Conor scoffs.

“A one on one game in Denver with Cale. He wins, he gets to post it. When he loses, every copy is deleted.” Conor says. JT furrows his brows.

“Have you… seen Cale play hockey?” Alexander asks. 

“Stop talking about how my hockey skills are better than your frontman’s and get ready for the show,” Cale calls.

“That’s some serious ego, bud, hope you can back it up,” Conor shoots back, but then Colin is yelling from backstage that they really _are_ on a schedule, so could they _please_ try to stay on track for once in their lives, so Conor starts singing into the mic. 

He doesn’t mean to choose ‘Canada’s Sweetheart’, but with Cale right there, it’s the first song that pops into his head. Cale looks sort of confused and interested at first––they told him they were doing a new song, but they hadn’t said any more than that to him––but as Conor makes it through the verse, Cale starts looking more… flustered, is the best word Conor can think of.

Before he makes it to the chorus though, Josty gives him an okay and moves onto JT’s mic. Conor stares out at the sound booth and tries very hard not to think about Cale’s face or whether that was a good or bad flush on his cheeks. God, Cale’s cheeks got pink so much. It’s a lot, and suddenly Conor is incredibly glad he managed to scrap the line about rosey cheeks before he played the song for anyone because that 100% eliminates any plausible deniability about who he wrote the song for. 

They play the opener of the show, and then they’re let go to chill. Conor needs to get off the stage and get off fast, maybe hide because even if Cale liked it, Barrie probably _also_ knows who it’s for. And where Barrie is, chirping isn’t far behind. 

“JT, do you want to get dinner?” Conor asks as he’s taking off his guitar. JT snorts. 

“I think your groupie wants to talk to you,” JT says, nodding his head over to the side of the stage. 

“If that’s Barrie, I swear to god––” Conor starts.

“Conor,” Cale says, walking up to him. Conor’s eyes widen as he looks at JT’s smirk. He raises his eyebrows at Conor and Conor wants nothing more than to punch him. He turns around and, goodness, Cale’s face is still pink.

“Cale,” Conor says, almost wincing when he realizes how fond his voice just sounds because Cale is in his general direction.

“Hey,” he says, and his voice is softer than usual, quiet enough that Conor steps closer to hear him. “Was that the new song you were doing at sound check?”

Conor is close enough that Cale is looking up at him as he talks, and it’s really unfair what his eyes look like from this angle. “Oh! Um, yeah, yeah it was. What did you think?”

“It sounded really good. I can’t wait to hear the whole thing.” Cale has his hand on Conor’s forearm and it’s all Conor can think about for a second.

Conor can feel himself blush. “Thanks,” he mumbles, trying not to look at Cale.

“Anyway, um,” Cale clears his throat and steps back. “D’you maybe want to get dinner again? Apparently Kansas City barbecue is like, a _thing_, so I was going to try to find a place nearby, if you wanted to come.”

Conor conveniently erases any memory of having suggested getting dinner to JT. “That sounds awesome.” 

Cales face goes pink as he nods. “Do you wanna go find a place with me? Just like, walk?”

“That sounds really nice, Cale. I’d love to,” Conor grins. Cale laughs, ducking his head.

“I have to go tell Colin where I’ll be, but I’ll be right back.”

Conor doesn’t exactly watch him walk down to the sound booth, but. He must sigh or _something_ because JT snorts from behind him.

“Dude.” he says. Conor jumps.

“What?” 

“_He might not even like me like that even though he just asked me out on this romantic ass fucking date,_” JT says, crossing his arms. “He’s _so_ taken with you dude. It’s cute.”

“Shut up, man, it’s not a date.” He really, really wants it to be, but until the actual words come out of Cale’s mouth, he’s not making any assumptions. 

“Yeah, whatever. So you’re just abandoning me for a not-date? Fine, I see how it is. I’ll grab dinner with someone who really loves me. Hey Sammy!” He hollers at their bassist, “Since Conor doesn’t love me any more, wanna get food?”

“Don’t you have a boyfriend for that?” Sam shoots back. “Two, even? If they cannot keep you satisfied, I don’t think I can help.”

“Tough crowd!” JT rolls his eyes. “Fine. I’ll see you losers later.”

Conor is laughing at JT when Cale appears back at his side. “What was that all about?”

“Oh, just JT being dramatic about how we don’t love him enough when he has two perfectly good boyfriends to give him all the attention he could ever need.”

“Thought it was Josty’s job to be the attention whore, but okay.”

Conor can’t stop the laugh that bursts out of him at that. He honestly cackles. “Fair point. Guess JT just felt like trying out for the role today. Anyway, food?”

“Food,” Cale agrees. Conor takes out his phone as they exit the theater.

“Do you like onion rings?” Conor asks, opening a page on his phone.

“Onions are spawns of satan, and I’m saying that as a redhead.”

“I’ll take that as a no?” Conor laughs when Cale flushes.

“Look, they’re terrible. I’ve never met an onion I liked.” Cale shrugs. “Feel free to change my mind.”

“Well, there’s a good barbeque place not far from here that puts onion rings on a sandwich.” Conor shows the picture from Joe’s Kansas City Bar-b-que. 

“Ok I’m not gonna fucking lie, that looks great,” Cale says.

“Wanna give it a shot? Worst case scenario, I’ll just eat your onion rings.”

Cale looks up at him and flutters his eyelashes in a ridiculous fashion. “My hero.”

“I’m gonna take that as a yes. Come on, Google says it’s only a six minute walk from here.”

“Lead on,” Cale says. 

Google Maps clearly doesn’t account for tall people and their long legs, because the walk is much closer to four minutes, but Conor isn’t going to complain about it when they get to the restaurant and are led to a tiny two-person booth. There’s no avoiding having his legs pressed up against Cale’s and he sort of wants to melt into a puddle but also he wants to stay there forever. 

Their waitress comes by with waters and asks them if they have any questions about the menu. 

“Promise you’ll eat all the onion rings if I hate them?” Cale asks, looking at Conor. 

“Pinky swear,” Conor replies, holding his hand out. Cale locks his pinky around Conor’s and shakes their hands up and down. 

“Great, now that that’s settled, we’ll both have that sandwich with the onion rings.”

“Well, aren’t you two just the cutest thing? I’ll have those right out for you.” Their waitress shoots them a wink and leaves. Conor’s eyes widen as he looks back at Cale, whose face is bright red.

“Did she just think we––”

“Yup.” Conor says, nodding. He looks down at their still interlocked pinkies and flushes. “Uh-–”

“Sorry, sorry,” Cale says, pulling his hand back. 

It doesn’t take long for the food to get out there and it smells really fucking good. Conor takes a moment to look at Cale, who’s staring at his sandwich. 

“That’s huge.” Cale says. “Like, they’re onion rings, but wow, I––that’s way too big.”

Conor, who’d been drinking water, chokes. That’s not something he’d _ever_ needed to hear Cale say ever. 

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Cale asks.

“Yeah, just went down the wrong pipe,” Conor says, coughing. “You’re not wrong though. The pictures really did _not_ do it justice.”

Cale mutters something under his breath and Conor looks at him questioningly. 

“Um. I said, things I said to my last grindr hookup?” Cale is redder than Conor has ever seen him and Conor nearly starts choking again. He’s pretty sure that’s not the right reaction to the situation though, so he holds his fist out for a fist bump.

“I know the feeling, dude. Also, I think that officially makes us the gayest tour ever. I mean, Colin might be bi? But every single one of us on this fucking tour is gay. D’you think we should call the Guinness Book of World Records, or is that not really something they record?”

Cale bursts out laughing and any lingering awkwardness is gone. 

“Okay, so like… how do we even eat these stupid sandwiches that you somehow convinced me to order?”

“I dunno, dude, I think we just have to go for it.” Conor puts on his best game face and picks up the sandwich. “Here goes nothing.”

“You don’t think I should try a ring first?” Cale asks, furrowing his brows. 

“Oh right, you should definitely try an onion ring first.” Conor says. Cale picks out an onion ring and bites into it, and makes possibly the most hilarious face ever. 

“Sorry, nope no, can’t do it.” Cale says, handing his sandwich over to Conor. “Take them, take them, I can’t touch them.”

Conor opens his own sandwich and slides Cale’s plate towards himself. The addition of Cale’s onion rings makes his own sandwich comically large. “It’s like something out of a Dagwood comic, oh my god. There is _no way_ this is going to fit in my mouth.”

Conor reaches forward like he can somehow grab the words out of the air, but it’s too late. Cale snorts and collapses face first on the table. “Oh my god, dude, did you really just say that?”

Conor looks helplessly at the sky. “I regret my life, I regret my choices. I’m just going to shut up now and eat this ridiculous food. Take your onion-less sandwich back, damnit.”

“Well, it’s a much more manageable size now, so I can _definitely_ fit this one in my mouth.” Cale fucking _winks_ as he takes a bite and then moans as he chews. Conor prays for a swift and painless death. Cale opens his eyes and grins after he swallows his mouthful. “You okay Conor?”

“Fine, perfectly fine. I’m just trying to figure out how to unhinge my fucking jaw,” he says. Cale laughs.

“You could take my onion rings off the sandwich,” Cale says. “That’d make it more manageable.”

“Yeah, well… shut up.” Conor hadn’t thought of that, in the middle of being so distracted by the moaning and the innuendos, general common sense has once again deserted him completely.

“You love me,” Cale grins, taking another bite of the sandwich. “You really should try it, this is _so_ good.”

Conor very much ignores him, opens his sandwich, takes Cale’s onion rings off, and takes a bite. “Holy fuck,” Conor covers his mouth so he doesn’t let any obscene noises out. “Holy shit that’s so good.”

After that, they demolish their food in silence. When they’ve finished their sandwiches, Conor idly picks at the extra onion rings on his plate (he really doesn’t want any more food, but they’re there, and he had pinky promised he would take care of them) and watches Cale lick barbecue sauce from his fingers and tries very, very hard not to think about anything else Cale could be licking.

“So, the onion rings didn’t totally ruin your experience?” he asks. 

Cale pops one more finger into his mouth and sucks it clean before wiping his hands off on his napkin. “Nah, that was pretty fucking great. Thanks for taking mine though. I don’t know how you eat them, but at least I didn’t have to do it.”

Their waitress stops by and grabs their plates and deposits the check on the table. “I’ll take that whenever you’re ready, boys.” She grins at them and leaves. 

Conor goes to grab his wallet, but sees Cale reaching to take the black folder with the check. “No, dude, I got it. It was my idea to come here.”

“Yeah, but I was the one who asked you to dinner,” Cale protests. “I can totally get it.”

“Seriously,” Conor says, putting his hand on top of the bill, “Don’t worry about it. You already had to deal with onion-related trauma tonight.”

Cale doesn’t look like he’s willing to give up without a fight. 

Conor raises an eyebrow. “I raise the stakes for Denver. I win, I take you out to dinner too. And pay.”

“Oh really?” Cale says, sliding his card in the black folder. “Too bad you’re not gonna win. Guess I’m just gonna have to take you out to dinner.”

“You two are just the sweetest!” The waitress says, reminding the two of them that they are in fact in public. 

“He always wants to pay,” Cale grins, handing the waitress the black folder. “Never lets me pay.”

“It was my idea to come here,” Conor protests. Look, he might not actually be Cale’s boyfriend (yet, that hopeful voice in the back of his head adds), but he’ll be damned if he isn’t the best not-actually-boyfriend Cale’s ever had. “I should pay if it’s my idea.”

“Just let me have this one, babe,” Cale says, and the waitress beams at them and walks away. 

The noise that Conor makes can generously be described as a squeak. He coughs and clears his throat. “Um.”

Cale’s cheeks are dark pink. “Sorry, was that too much? I just…” he trails off, and Conor quickly jumps in to protest. 

“No! No, no, dude, that was fine, it’s chill. I was just surprised, is all. But it’s all good. She definitely thinks we’re a couple now.”

“I mean,” Cale says, and he’s doing that _thing_ again, where he looks up at Conor through his eyelashes and it’s killing him. “We’d make a pretty hot couple, I think.”

Under the table, Conor pinches his thigh because there’s literally no way this isn’t a dream. It’s impossible that Cale is flirting with him at a restaurant in the middle of Kansas City. He doesn’t wake up though, and it occurs to him that he should probably say something before Cale freaks out about what he said. “Definitely hotter than Sam and EJ, that’s for sure. We’ve got all our teeth.”

Something like disappointment flashes across Cale’s face, but it’s gone in a second and he laughs. “We sure do, bro. We sure do.”

Conor’s about to say something, maybe along the lines of _I wrote a song for you_ when his phone rings. “Oh shit, it’s Colin. How late is it?”

“6:40, oh god, let’s go.” Cale says. 

The waitress comes back with Cale’s card and Conor takes it, leaving a tip on the table. He grabs Cale’s hand, and they run down the street back to the theatre. They run into the green room, heavy breathing and mussed and Conor thinks he’s going to throw up.

“Have fun?” JT asks from his place on a chair that looks too comfortable for what he deserves. 

“We went to _dinner,_” Conor says, and JT’s gaze lands on their entwined hands and Cale and Conor step away from each other. “You’re just jealous no one ate with you.”

“Boo you, whore,” JT says. 

“Mean girls,” Josty holds out a fist for JT to bump. JT raises his eyebrows.

“I’m sorry, who was busy with Alexander earlier?” JT says, a ghost of a grin on his face.

“You watched!” Alexander says.

“I’m sorry, but _what the fuck_?” Conor demands. “Please tell me you’re not saying what it sounds like you’re saying, because if you are, I’m quitting the band.”

“Maybe don’t ask questions you don’t want answered then,” Josty responds blythely. 

“Are they always like this?” Cale whispers to Conor.

“Unfortunately. Let’s just say I’ve learned some things about them that I can never unknow. It’s honestly worse than rooming next to Sam and EJ.”

“Hey!” protests Sam. 

“Dude. I _literally_ heard your giant toothless boyfriend call you ‘Daddy’ the other night, you have no legs to stand on here.”

JT’s eyes light up. “Wait, EJ calls Sam Daddy? This is the best thing I’ve ever heard in my life!” 

“Gentlemen, if it’s alright with you, we have a show to get going. Or should I just tell the openers they can have the whole set tonight?” Colin is in the doorway looking more than a little annoyed, which is impressive because he’s normally a very level-headed person. 

“Yep. Showtime. We’re on it, boss.” Conor tosses Colin a salute, and all the boys get up to get ready.

They’re adding ‘Canada’s Sweetheart’ to the lineup tonight, and Conor is more than a little nervous. Cale looks over to him and knocks his shoulder against his.

“Hey, you’re gonna do great,” Cale says. “The song’s gonna go awesome.”

“I hope so,” Conor says, for an entirely different reason than Cale means. 

“Go get dressed so Bo, Alex, and Matt don’t have to make up songs on the spot.” Cale grins.

—-

They open the show the same way they have all tour. Conor wants to get the crowd into it before he throws new material at them. Maybe he also wants to be fully into his performing mindset to drown out the nerves about debuting the song, but he’s not going to admit that to anyone. After their fourth song, though, it’s time. 

“How’s it going, everybody?” he calls into the mic. The crowd screams back at him. “Alright, we’ve got something new for you tonight. This is the first time we’re playing it for anyone. Hope you like it.” There’s enough yelling in response that he feels pretty confident that he could play “twinkle twinkle” and the audience would be into it. 

Back on the drums, Alexander counts them in and they’re off. Honestly, they sound amazing. There’s a hush to the crowd like they’re hanging on to every note and Conor feels electric. 

“Let’s hear it for Canada’s sweetheart, I must confess: I’m in love with my own sin.” Conor sings and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Cale where he’s tucked just offstage. Normally, he’s got his camera or his phone out, but right now he’s just standing there watching them play. No, watching Conor specifically. Conor can feel himself smiling as he sings, and he has to turn his focus back to the crowd so he doesn’t break. When they finish, the audience goes nuts. “That was Canada’s Sweetheart. With any luck, it’ll be on our next album. Now, you all probably know this next one…”

As JT starts in on their next song, Conor looks to Cale. He’s still standing there in the wings, and he grins and shoots Conor a thumbs up when they make eye contact. 

\---

The show is a success as always––Conor’s sort of always surprised that everyone loves their music, _his_ words. They go out for an encore and after that, they’re all congregated in JT and Alexander’s dressing room.

“I think everyone liked that song, safe to say,” Alexander says, tossing a water bottle at Conor. “Nice going dude.”

“I just wrote the words. You guys made it sound good.” Conor grins, uncapping the bottle and taking a sip. There’s a moment before Alexander hits him.

“Dude seriously, it’s a good song. I think he liked it,” Alexander says. “Not kidding.”

“You think so?” Conor asks, flushing. They’re all interrupted by a knock on the door. Cale comes in with the camera, and he seems… nervous.

“Hey, Conor? I’ve got some videos of the song I want to show you. Could I go talk to you in your dressing room?” he asks, flushing dark.

“Yeah, sure,” Conor says. JT is giving him some kind of look that’s probably supposed to be significant, but mostly makes it look like various parts of his face are twitching, so he ignores it and follows Cale out of the room.

They get to his dressing room and he goes to close the door when suddenly Cale is _right there_. 

“Holy fuck, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” he says, and suddenly Cale’s lips are on his. It takes him a second to register what’s happening, but as soon as he does, he’s kissing back like Cale is the air and he’s suffocating. 

Cale moans and slides a hand into Conor’s hair, angling his head to deepen the kiss. Conor wraps his hands around Cale’s hips and pulls him closer, thankful that he’s already backed against the door, because his knees feel weak from this kiss. 

Cale bites at his lip and Conor groans. The hand in his hair tugs his head back, and Cale gets his mouth on Conor’s neck. He kisses his way from Conor’s shoulder up to his ear, pausing to murmur, “Do you have any idea what you look like when you’re singing? I wanted to blow you onstage, it was so hot.”

Conor shudders at that and then again as Cale sucks at his pulse point. He feels like he’s going to explode. He shifts one of his legs so it’s slotted between Cale’s and oh. That’s definitely Cale’s dick pressed up against his thigh. 

“Fuck, I–– wrote the song for you,” Conor gasps out, and Cale bites down on his neck. He pulls back, resting his forehead on Conor’s shoulder, rocking his hips down against Conor’s thigh.

“You can’t just say stuff like that while you’re pressed up against me,” Cale says, and he sounds desperate. “God, can I blow you?”

“Shit, really?” Conor asks, and his body is so hot right now. He’s on the verge of asking Cale to wait until they get back to the hotel, but he doesn’t think he can wait that long. Cale slides down to his knees, looking up at him through his lashes and yeah, yup. This is how Conor dies. Cale reaches up to cup Conor through his jeans and squeeze and, “Yeah, yeah okay, please.”

He pushes down his jeans with difficulty— thank you Barrie, and your idea of too tight skinny jeans –– but they manage to. Cale takes Conor out of his boxers and drags his tongue along the vein of his dick. 

“You’re huge. I don’t know how I’m gonna fit that in my mouth,” Cale says, smirking a little.

“Take the onion rings off,” Conor says. He tries to snort, but his laugh turns into moans as Cale wraps his lips around the head of his cock. It should be illegal for Cale to look like this, mouth stretched around Conor’s dick and looking up at him through his eyelashes. Conor groans and Cale comes as close to smirking as possible, considering he has a mouthful of cock. Conor reaches out to touch him and then pulls his hand back. He presses his hands against the door, and Cale pulls off his dick with a pop. 

“You can pull my hair if you want. I like it.” He opens his mouth again and slides down to take more of Conor into his mouth. 

“Holy fuck,” Conor whispers as he tangles his hand into Cale’s hair. It’s soft under his hand and Cale hums when he gives it a tug. “Oh god. Fuck, you feel so good.” That earns him another hum as Cale begins to work his mouth over Conor’s dick. Conor is dangerously close to coming already and it feels like it’s been no time at all. Cale looks totally blissed out though, like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be than on his knees for Conor, and there’s no way Conor is going to make this last. 

Cale’s hand comes up and slides between Conor’s legs to press behind his balls and Conor shouts. He tugs frantically at Cale’s hair. “Gonna––Cale, fuck, I’m gonna come.” 

Rather than pulling off like Conor expects, Cale just sucks and presses harder with his fingers and Conor is coming.

“Fuck—_Cale._” Conor’s really glad now that he’s pressed up against a door because there’s no way his knees would work right now. Cale keeps his mouth on him, sucking gently until Conor is shuddering and pulling away, and when he pulls off, he wipes his lower lip and grins.

“Liked that, did you?” Cale asks, reaching down to get a hand around himself. 

“Hey, hey. No.” Conor kneels down, and gets his hand in Cale’s boxers. He jerks Cale off fast and tight, his palm already slick from precome, pressing kiss after kiss to Cale’s neck. “Treated me so well,” he murmurs into Cale’s ear.

Cale’s gripping tightly at Conor’s biceps, gasping and whining as he bucks into Conor’s hand. “Not gonna last––”

“That’s kinda the point, Makar,” Conor whispers, taking Cale’s earlobe between his teeth and pulling gently. Cale’s breathing faster and his whines go “higher in pitch. “C’mon baby, give it up for me.”

“Fuck––” Cale whines, grinding up into Conor’s hand. 

“You like me asking you? C’mon. Want you,” Conor says, before sucking a mark high on Cale’s neck. “Please? For me?”

“_Conor_,” he says, going still and coming in his boxers.

“Holy fuck, dude,” Conor says, and he sounds a little hysterical but honestly he feels like no one can blame him for that. “Wow. Shit, that was the hottest thing that’s ever happened in my life, oh my god.”

Cale chuckles weakly and slumps over so he’s leaning against Conor’s shoulder. “Well, that’s what happens when you write songs for people, I guess.” Cale looks up at him. “You did mean it when you said that, right? That wasn’t just a line?” He sounds almost nervous when he asks. 

“You’ve seen yourself, right? It was definitely about you.” Conor wants to kiss him so badly to reassure him. What the hell, they’ve already gotten each other off in his dressing room, there’s no reason they can’t kiss again after that. “Hey,” he says gently and presses his hand to Cale’s cheek. “It could only be about you.” He kisses Cale and feels it as Cale relaxes against him. They stay like that for several long minutes trading soft kisses before Cale pulls away with a grimace. 

“Not that I’m not really enjoying this, but I’m totally stuck to my boxers at this point and it’s super gross. Can we head back to the hotel now?”

Conor presses one last kiss to Cale’s lips and then hauls himself up off the floor. He offers his hand to Cale to pull him up. “Alright, yeah, let’s go. The guys are probably starting to worry about us anyway.”

Cale flushes, standing up in Conor’s space. “I… told Colin to stay out of the room for tonight. Maybe visit Tyson?”

Conor raises an eyebrow. “You did?”

“He’s been talking about Barrie nonstop for the past two months, yeah, I had to,” Cale grins.

“Wait, seriously? You’re not just fucking with Tyson on this, are you? Because he’s so into Colin it’s not even funny.”

“No, dude, Colin is 100% into Barrie. He’s convinced Barrie’s not into him though since he flirts with anything with a pulse.”

Conor just shakes his head. He’s got a point. “Well, if either one of them manages not to screw this up, everyone on tour might get laid tonight.” He winks at Cale and then immediately has to cover his face. How cheesy do you get? 

Cale giggles though and leans up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Oooh, someone’s confident,” Cale taunts. 

“I’m sorry, which of us just basically came in his pants from giving a blowjob again?”

“Yeah, okay, fair point. Whatever, let’s go. The sooner we’re back to my room, the sooner you can get your dick in me.” And well, Conor isn’t going to argue with that.

They grab an Uber back to the hotel, and Conor presses kisses to Cale’s neck, delighting in hearing his little whines from Cale. “Fuck, I’m sensitive, Con,” he says, and Conor can tell from the passing lights that Cale’s cheeks are so red. 

“Yeah?” Conor looks down at the bulge forming in Cale’s pants. “I’m not thinking you have a problem with that.”

Cale groans, getting right up close to Conor’s ear. “I’m gonna need you in me as soon as we get into my hotel room.”

Mercifully, the ride isn’t too much longer, so they manage to avoid any potential “rockstar and crew member get caught having sex in an Uber” scandals, but honestly, it’s a near thing. Conor uses his last remaining judgement to convince them to take the stairs rather than the elevator because there’s no way they’ll survive being in an elevator alone without someone’s dick coming out. 

That doesn’t stop him from plastering himself along Cale’s back as Cale tries to get the door to his room open. Conor’s hand finding its way to the fly of Cale’s pants definitely has nothing to do with how many times it takes before Cale can get the card into the reader. Finally though, he gets it open, and for the second time that night, Conor finds himself pinned against a door by Cale.

“I’m pretty sure,” he mumbles against Cale’s lips between kisses, “that it’s going to be way easier to fuck you on a bed.”

“Mmhmm,” Cale agrees against his lips, but makes no move towards the bed. 

Conor slides his hands down Cale’s back and squeezes Cale’s ass. He hums consideringly before sliding his hands down lower and gripping Cale’s (very well-defined!) thighs. “Alright, you gotta jump for me,” he says, and tugs at Cale’s legs. Cale gets the picture pretty quickly and hops up as Conor lifts, then quickly wraps his legs around Conor’s waist. 

“Holy fuck,” Cale whispers. “This is it. This is how I die. Take me to bed, Conor.”

Conor groans, walking them over to Cale’s bed, setting him down. Cale can’t help but giggle as he leans back against the pillows, pulling his shirt over his chest and, “Fuck, Cale.”

“Like what you see?” Cale asks, though he’s flushed down to his stomach. Conor wants to get his mouth on him immediately.

“You know I do,” Conor says, taking his own shirt off, unbuckling his pants. “You should––pants.”

“Shit, yeah,” Cale says, unbuckling his belt. He pushes them down and had they not both come in the dressing room, Conor would blow him again on the bed. “What?”

“Just appreciating the view,” Conor says, smirking.

“You wanna maybe give me a view to enjoy?”

Cale is very naked, which makes it hard to focus on anything, even something as simple as getting undressed, but the promise of getting to feel all of that skin on his is enough motivation to get Conor stripping out of his clothes. He takes a minute to curse his skinny jeans again, but they come off without too much of a fight and he can climb back onto the bed and crawl over Cale. 

He’s not sure where he wants to touch first, with so much bare skin below him. He leans down like he’s going to kiss Cale, but pauses and slides down to lick over one of his nipples instead. Cale shudders below him and grabs at his arm. 

“Sensitive?” Conor teases.

“Fuck, yes.”

Conor sucks Cale’s nipple into his mouth and rolls it between his lips and Cale makes the most beautiful, broken moan. A rush of arousal thrums through Conor as he rolls his hips down against Cale.

“God, _Conor,_” Cale says, gripping tighter as he rucks his hips up.

“Lube,” Conor says, almost as an afterthought, like nothing else is more important than Cale feeling good right now. 

“Bag in the––the side drawer,” Cale gasps. “Fuck, do that _again._”

Conor reaches over in the drawer to grab the bottle. Cale spreads his legs, leaning his head back against the pillow. “God, can I mark you?”

Cale whines, nodding. “Fuck, please do.”

Conor hums, kissing his neck, down his chest and dangerously close to Cale’s dick, making a move to put his mouth on it, but swerving to mark over his hips. Cale covers his face, and Conor can feel him try his hardest not to buck up against his mouth. He pushes Cale’s thighs wider and sucks a mark into the inside of one, and he feels Cale’s dick twitch against his cheek. Cale says something, but it’s muffled by the arm over his face. 

“What was that?” Conor asks and then nips at his other thigh. 

Cale groans. “Fucking––get something in me already.”

Conor briefly considers drawing this out, seeing how desperate Cale will get, but honestly, he’s not sure how he’s waited this long, so he saves that for next time. Instead, he slicks up his fingers and reaches between Cale’s leg to trace lightly over Cale’s hole. The shuddering gasp he gets from Cale is the sweetest sound. 

Slowly, he eases the tip of one finger into Cale. Even that much is overwhelming, hot and tight, and Conor is suddenly aware of just how turned on he is. He needs to be inside Cale like, yesterday. He slides his finger the rest of the way in and pauses, lets Cale adjust. 

Cale’s got his arm over his face again and it’s muffling the sounds he makes. “Hey, none of that. I want to hear you, baby. Want to know what you like.” He’s rewarded with a whine from Cale, who clenches down on his finger. 

Conor curls his finger, smiling when Cale arches his back off the bed. “Shit, _more,_ Con.”

Conor pulls his finger out and pushes in with two, groaning when Cale keens. “Oh my god.”

“Yeah? You like that?” Conor asks, curling his fingers. Cale gasps, grinding back down against Conor’s fingers.

“Oh god, there, Conor, _there_.”

Conor crooks his fingers again, pressing more deliberately against Cale’s prostate and is rewarded by an absolutely unintelligible moan that might involve his name, but is mostly just sound. 

He fucks Cale with his fingers, working him open and stroking over his prostate to see what other noises he can get. “Think you’re ready for three yet?” Cale moans and grinds his hips like he’s trying to take Conor deeper. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

He presses a kiss to Cale’s knee as he slides a third finger in and Cale honest-to-god _whimpers_. “God, you take it so well,” Conor murmurs. “Look at you.” Conor wasn’t sure it was possible for Cale to get any pinker, but he does and he turns to hide his face in the pillows. 

Cale gasps, clenching down around Conor’s fingers. “Fuck, I really like being fingered open, but I need you in me before I come again.” 

Conor nods, feeling more and more like a bobblehead as he takes his fingers out, curling slightly at the rim just to hear Cale gasp. He takes a condom out of the bag and rolls it on, slicking himself up. He lines up with Cale and looks at him. “You ready?”

“Fuck, _please,_ Conor.” Cale says.

Conor lines up and presses slowly in. Despite the thorough fingering, Cale is still so tight around him, hot and slick and it’s so good. He pauses once his hips are flush with Cale’s, as much to give him a minute to calm down as it is for Cale to adjust to the stretch. Before long though, Cale digs his heel into the back of Conor’s thigh. 

“You gotta––fuck, move already, come on.”

He’s pretty sure he’s not going to come on the spot, so Conor pulls most of the way out and then thrusts back in.

“Yes,” Cale hisses, locking his ankles together around Conor’s waist. “Come on, Con, give it to me.”

He sets a steady rhythm, each thrust driving little punched-out noises from Cale. It’s so good and Conor is suddenly glad he’s already come once tonight, because he’s barely hanging on as it is. 

“Fuck, okay baby,” Conor says, pulling out and grinding back in. He wraps his hand around Cale’s dick, stroking in time with his thrusts, moaning as Cale clenches down around him. “God, Cale, you take it so well.”

Cale opens his mouth to say something but Conor leans down to suck a mark that he’s not going to be able to hide tomorrow. Cale arches his neck, allowing Conor to mark more. “God, please––”

Conor bites a mark at the juncture where Cale’s neck meets his shoulder, soothing it with his tongue. ”You’re incredible,” he says against the bruise. Cale clenches around him and Conor shudders. “Fuck, baby, you’re so good. Are you close?”

“Yeah,” Cale pants out, “God, ‘m so close, Conor.” 

“Come on, Cale. Let go for me, wanna feel you come on my dick.” He jacks Cale faster, pounding into him and Cale comes with a shout. Conor makes it two more thrusts before he’s coming. He gasps against Cale as he comes down. “That was––”

“Fuck, probably the best sex I’ve ever had?” Cale finishes, smiling tiredly up at Conor. Conor grins, leaning down to press a kiss to Cale’s lips. 

“Glad I’m a contender,” Conor grins, pulling out and taking off the condom. It takes about five minutes before he realizes they’re both sweaty and gross. “We need to shower.”

“If I get in the shower with you, I’ll either fall asleep or blow you again,” Cale says, though his eyes are drifting shut. 

“I’ll set an alarm, we can shower in the morning,” Conor grins, laying down and holding Cale close.

Cale hums happily. “That sounds perfect.” He’s asleep between one breath and the next, and Conor can’t help but kiss one of his pink cheeks before he settles in to sleep himself. 

\---

When the alarm goes off the next morning, they’ve shifted so Cale is spooned up behind Conor. He can feel where Cale is hard pressed up against the curve of his ass and he finds himself speaking before his brain comes fully online. “You should definitely fuck me next time.”

He reaches over to shut off his alarm, almost more as an excuse to hide his face for a minute than to stop the noise, but Cale follows him as he shifts and grinds against him. 

“You mean it? Holy fuck, that would be so hot.”

Conor turns around to see Cale’s eyes wide, his cheeks pink as he looks at Conor. Conor smirks, rolling his hips up against Cale, just to see his eyes flutter shut as he exhales a moan.

“Of course I do, holy shit. But we need to shower and get ready for breakfast,” Conor says, leaning over to press a kiss below Cale’s ear.

Cale whines. “We could skip breakfast,” he says.

“Oh?” Conor chuckles.”Got something better for us to be doing?”

“You can’t just suggest that I fuck you and then _not_ let me do it, Con. I might die.” Cale flops back against the bed in dramatic fashion. 

“Even if we skip breakfast, I’m not sure we’ll have time before I need to be at rehearsal.” Conor really wants to say yes, but he also really wants to be able to take the time to appreciate Cale fucking him. “But we probably have time to fool around in the shower if we’re willing to have a quick breakfast.”

“Wait, to be clear, ‘quick breakfast’ is or isn’t code for me sucking your dick in the shower? Because there’s definitely a joke about getting enough protein there.”

Conor lets out a strangled sort of laugh. “I mean, I was planning on real food after, but I’m definitely not opposed to a shower blowjob.” To emphasize his point, he rolls over on top of Cale and grinds against him. Cale groans deliciously. 

“Right, shower. God––want my mouth on you,” Cale moans, leaning up to kiss Conor deep. Conor’s breath hitches as he sits back up reluctantly. 

“Then let’s go, baby,” Conor says, getting out of bed and walking into the bathroom, turning the shower on. Cale presses up against him, grinding against his ass. “You gonna get off on blowing me again? Or me begging?”

Cale lets out a strangled noise. “Fuck off.”

“Come on baby, don’t be mad, it’s so fucking hot.” Conor steps into the shower and turns to pull Cale under the water with him. He pulls him into a filthy kiss and grinds against him, dick sliding along the cut of Cale’s hip. “I’ll blow you first if you’re worried about it.”

Cale groans and bites at his lips. “Yeah, yeah, shit, Con, want your mouth.”

Conor backs Cale against the wall of the shower and slides to his knees. He thinks about adding a hickey to Cale’s hip, but it seems mean after denying Cale the chance to fuck him this morning, so instead he sucks the head of Cale’s dick straight into his mouth. 

Cale gasps, and tries his hardest to keep his hips still. “Oh, fuck, Conor.”

Conor hums, sliding down and taking Cale further in his mouth as Cale writhes above him. He rests his hands on Cale’s thighs, the pads of his thumbs rubbing gentle circles into his inner thighs. 

Cale rests a hand on Conor’s head, but pulls it away when the head of his dick hits the back of Conor’s throat. Conor pulls off and grins. “You can pull my hair, it’s okay.”

“God, you’re incredible,” Cale says, his words breaking off into moans as Conor goes back down, licking a stripe up Cale’s dick.

Cale takes his words to heart and threads his fingers through Conor’s hair. Conor takes Cale deep enough to swallow around the head and Cale _yanks_. The sensation goes straight to Conor’s dick and he groans as his hips twitch. The noise gets him another sharp tug to his hair as Cale smacks his free hand against the shower wall. 

“Holy shit, _Conor_. You’re so good, you feel so fucking good. God, you’re incredible.” 

Conor pulls back and teases his tongue around the head while he works the shaft with his hand, then pull off with a pop. He keeps his hand moving slowly as he grins up at Cale. “I want to do this forever.”

“Fuck, you can’t say shit like that, I’m close––” Cale bucks up into Conor’s hand. Conor hums, deciding that he could probably get away with another hickey. He presses his lips to Cale’s hip, sucking a mark as he swipes his thumb at the head of Cale’s dick. Cale whines, coming hard over Conor’s hand. “Fuck, _Conor,_ oh god.”

Conor keep stroking him until he’s wincing away and then smirks. “I told you. This is just as hot for me as it is for you,” he says, thinking for a moment before licking the come off his fingers.

Cale lets out a strangled noise, pulling Conor up as careful as he can and kissing him deep. Conor knows that Cale can taste himself on Conor’s tongue and it makes his cock twitch knowing that Cale isn’t shying away.

Cale seems to notice because Conor can feel him grin against his lips. “Did you need something?” he asks, teasing, and Conor bites his lip in retaliation. 

“Are you going to suck my dick or not? Because I can get myself off if you’re not going to do it.” He slides his hand between them and wraps it around himself. 

Cale flushes darker. “Would you be mad if I said I want to watch?”

“Wait, fuck, really?” Conor steps back and strokes himself slowly. “I mean, if you want to…”

“Please, god, do you have any idea what you look like? Your _arms_, Con, god, and your hands, you’re so hot, wanna see you, wanna know exactly what you like. Come on, do it, touch yourself for me.”

Conor isn’t going to say no to that. Cale looks at him hungrily, eyes tracing over where his hand is wrapped around his dick up to his chest and back down. He wants to put on a show for Cale, but he also desperately wants to get off, so he leans back against the wall and starts stroking his cock. 

“God, you’re beautiful, Con,” Cale says, and hums when Conor whines and squeezes his cock harder. “Absolutely amazing.”

“You can’t––” Conor gasps, twisting his wrist as he jerks his cock. “Fuck–– you don’t know what you do to me.”

“If it’s a fraction of what you do to me, I understand,” Cale says. 

“Fuck, Cale, oh my god.” Conor reaches down and rolls his balls in his hand, and arches his back against the wall.

“Gorgeous, Con. Absolutely gorgeous. Come on, you close?” Cale says, his voice rough as Conor jerks faster. Conor bites his lip and nods, feeling like he’s on fire from being watched, from blowing Cale before. He’s addicted to the feeling.

Or maybe it’s just Cale.

“God, you treated me so well, Conor. You did so well. You were so _good,_” Cale says, and that’s it. He lasts a handful of thrusts more and comes hard over his hand.

He reaches out to rinse his hand under the water, but Cale catches it and brings it up to his mouth. “It only seems fair, right?” he asks with a wink and then sucks one of Conor’s fingers into his mouth. 

Conor’s not sure what the sound he makes is, but he’ll deny making it. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Just trying to make up for the fact that I didn’t actually get your dick in my mouth this morning, that’s all.”

Conor groans. “I literally can’t get hard again yet, man, that’s un-fucking-fair.”

Cale looks way too pleased with himself. 

“Okay, but like… we should actually shower to maybe we can eat something before I have to meet up with the band,” Conor says reluctantly. He moves under the spray properly and rinses off his hand. 

They shower quickly, trading kisses as they wash. Cale steps out first, wrapping the towel around himself and handing another to Conor. Conor smiles, taking a step out of the bathroom before coming to a terrible realization.

“Oh my god.”

“What?” Cale asks from the bathroom.

“I’m gonna have to go to Brutes’s room.” Conor says, flushing dark. “I don’t have my suitcase.”

“You could just wear the clothes from last night,” Cale suggests hesitantly. 

“There’s almost definitely jizz stains on something. I _cannot_ go out in those, JT would literally never let me hear the end of it, and Sam would tell EJ, and EJ would tell everyone, and I would actually die.”

Cale grimaces sympathetically. “Yeah, you’re right. I might have something that would fit you though. You’re not that much bigger than I am.”

“Honestly, if it saves me the walk of shame and having Colin potentially see me, I’ll deal with clothes being slightly small.”

“Let’s go see what we can find.”

Cale digs through his clothes and comes up with an oversized pair of sweats––“look, sometimes you just gotta be comfy, okay?”––and a clean t-shirt that’s nearly Conor’s size.

“On a scale of one to ten, how much do you care if I freeball it in your sweats? Because the alternative is that you loan me boxers too.”

Cale chuckles. “Given how up close and personal I’ve already been with your balls, I think I’ll survive them in my clothes.”

“I owe you my life,” Conor say solemnly and pulls them on. 

“I think we can work something out about you paying me back later,” Cale grins, looking incredibly pleased as Conor trips over his feet and onto the bed.

“Okay, that wasn’t fair,” Conor says, laughing.

“Who said anything about being fair?” Cale asks, raising an eyebrow. Conor flushes, turning around.

“Practice is going to be miserable because all I’m going to be able to think about is you fucking me,” Conor says, standing up and walking into Cale’s space. Cale rests his hands on Conor’s hips.

“Good luck,” he grins, kissing him.

Conor reluctantly pulls himself away from Cale and leaves the room. He rushes to the theatre and finds the rest of the band waiting for him in the green room. He cringes as JT looks at him with an absolutely feral grin. 

“Good morning, Conor. Nice pants,” he drawls. “They look a little short on you.”

“Yeah, sorry, I stole them from your boyfriend,” Conor shoots back. Sam snorts. 

“Funny, I don’t remember hearing you shouting out Tyson _or_ Alexander’s names through the walls.” JT smirks. 

Conor has no good response to that. Mostly, he’s just glad that none of the crew are around to hear this and join in on the teasing. “Whatever, like you’ve never worn someone else’s clothes after…” he trails off, not really sure what he wants to say about whatever it is he and Cale are doing. 

“I do not know, I usually just wear my own clothes a second day,” Sam chimes in. 

“Well, that just means he couldn’t,” Alexander says blithely. “Nice going, Conor.”

Conor chokes on his breath. “Alexander, oh my _god._”

“Am I wrong?” Alexander asks. “Tell us why you couldn’t wear your jeans.”

“Don’t we have practice to get started on?” Conor flushes, rolling his eyes when he hears Alexander snort.

“Nice save,” JT says.

“_Practice._” Conor says. Someone knocks on the door and walks in.

“Hey, are Conor and Cale done fucking yet––oh, Conor! Hi!” Josty says. “Practice was supposed to start like fifteen minutes ago.”

“I am _aware_ of that Josty,” Conor says. “Do any of you have any shame?”

“Well, we all know you don’t,” Alexander says, fistbumping JT. “Oh, Cale, faster––”

“_Let’s practice, oh my god._” Conor says.

They make it through the first few songs without incident - they can all play anything off their earliest albums without thinking, at this point - but predictably, it all goes to hell when they get to “Canada’s Sweetheart.” Conor is playing the opening chords when Alexander’s eyes go wide. 

“_Wait_, wait, wait, wait. Oh my god. Cale totally didn’t have any pictures to show you after the show, did he? I _knew_ he was acting weird. He just wanted to jump you, didn’t he?”

Conor can’t really deny it. Even if he could form words through his embarrassment, he’s 100% sure that his face is bright red. “I mean, you guys did say he would like it.”

“You guys totally fucked in your dressing room, didn’t you?” JT asks. “Holy shit, even we’ve never done that. I think I’m impressed.”

Sam gives him a look at that. “Oh, really? What about that time I found you with your hands down Josty’s pants? What would you call that?”

“First of all, we stopped after you caught us. And second and more importantly, that was at the loading dock, not in the dressing room. So there.” JT sounds way too smug for someone who just admitted to getting caught having sex in a semi-outdoor location. 

Alexander just rolls his eyes. “You’re all animals.”

“Uh huh, mister scenic overlook blowjob,” JT shoots back. 

“Do I want to know?” Conor asks. He’s not really sure he does, but also, if it keeps the attention off of him, he’s not going to object too hard. 

“Look, sometimes your boyfriend is too antsy from sitting in the car all day and you happen to find a nice deserted scenic overlook off the highway and you might happen to find a way to get him to chill out, okay?” Alexander says this significantly more calmly than is probably reasonable, but that’s just how he is. 

JT’s face is way too red, redder than it normally is around both Josty and Alexander, so Conor knows that Alexander’s telling the truth.

“I don’t wanna know? I don’t wanna know,” Conor says, at the same time Josty’s saying _oh fuck, where was I?_

“Alright, all Cale jokes aside, can we please get back to rehearsal?” Sam asks. “I’m not afraid to sic Colin on you, too.”

The threat of Colin gets them back on track, and they make it through the rest of rehearsal with minimal distraction. Conor heads back to his and Tyson’s room immediately after they wrap up. As much as he actually likes wearing Cale’s clothes, he kind of wants to wear pants that don’t end inches above his ankles. He also needs to spend some time writing. Especially now that they’ve played “Canada’s Sweetheart”, there are expectations that the band puts out another album soon, and they can’t do that if Conor spends all his free time messing around with Cale. 

Brutes is out doing whatever it is he does when he doesn’t have to be setting up their venue, so he actually gets a solid hour of writing in before his stomach reminds him that he hasn’t eaten anything since before the show last night. He picks up his phone to text Cale. _hey, u around? i might starve 2 death if i don’t eat something soon. wanna get some food?_

Cale’s response is almost instant. _yeah dude, someone distracted me this morning, so i need food for sure. _

Conor can feel his cheeks heat at the reminder, and there’s a part of him that wants to blow off lunch to go blow Cale, but he really does need to eat. _meet downstairs and we can find something?_

_it’s a date :)_

Conor’s heart flips at that, smiling as he sends back a _:)._

He dresses quickly and heads down to the lobby. He smiles when he sees Cale get out of the elevator. “Hey! You ready to go?”

Cale leans in to kiss Conor. “‘Course.”

It’s a sweet kiss, quick and gentle, and it makes Conor’s heart skip a beat. He has to tamp down the urge to press his fingers to his lips like some sort of romance novel heroine. 

“Alright, so obviously onions are out of the question, but any food preferences?” Conor asks. 

“Honestly? I just want a lot of food, and I want it quickly. Think there’s a Chipotle or something around here?”

“That sounds perfect. I’m sure we can find something.” They wander downtown and don’t manage to find a Chipotle, but they do find a taco place and decide that will do. The food is pretty solid and the company is even better. They end up talking hockey for most of the meal, and Cale hooks his foot around Conor’s ankle under the table. Conor can’t think of the last time he had such a good time. 

Cale ducks his head as he smiles at a joke Conor made. “I’m normally not one for dad jokes, but you’ve managed to convince me.”

“They’re hilarious!” Conor insists. “What’s the difference between a pot of glue, a fish, and a piano?”

Cale furrows his eyebrows. “What?”

“You can tune a piano, but you can’t tuna fish,” Conor grins. Cale makes a face.

“What about the glue?” 

“I knew you’d get stuck on that.” Conor smirks.

Cale rolls his eyes, kicking Conor’s foot gently. “That was terrible, we’re broken up now.”

“I can definitely convince you to stay, if you need convincing,” Conor says, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh really?” Cale asks with a jokingly suggestive eyebrow waggle. “And how exactly are you going to do that?”

“Well,” Conor leans across the table and lowers his voice, “I don’t just let anyone fuck me, so if you break up with me, well…” he trails off and gives Cale a _look_. “Just sayin’.”

Cale flushes and coughs. “Yeah, okay, I guess we don’t have to break up over that. In totally unrelated news, do you want to head back to the hotel now?” 

Conor grins and knocks his knee against Cale’s under the table. “I guess I don’t have anything better to be doing.”

Cale rolls his eyes. “Yeah, definitely.”

They walk back to Conor’s hotel room quicker than either of them would like to admit, and…

“Hey, guys!” Tyson grins, sitting on his bed with lighting cues spread out around him. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

Conor flushes dark. “Look, we already got it from Alexander––”

“Got what?” Tyson grins like the cat that got the canary. “I heard from them they almost had to do what you and I did.”

“Oh my _god_,” Conor says, eyes widening.

“What did you… do i want to know?” Cale asks.

“Make fake sex noises because you guys were so loud. And in the morning too! God, twenty year olds’ refractory periods,” Tyson says, snorting. 

“Don’t you miss it, now that you’re ancient?” Conor shoots back.

“Quality over quantity, baby. Quality over quantity.”

Conor rolls his eyes. “Is that how you’re selling it to Colin?”

“First of all, I’ll have you know that I’ve had no complaints about my performance,” Tyson says haughtily. “And second of all, a gentleman doesn’t try to win someone over by talking about how good he is in bed.”

“Okay, but what does that have to do with you?” Cale asks, looking around. “I don’t see any gentlemen here.” 

Conor snorts and holds out his hand for a fist bump. 

“I could totally be a gentleman if I wanted to!” Tyson protests, and Conor bursts out laughing. “Anyway, if you guys want to bang, you’re gonna have to go somewhere else. I just found out that the lighting plots we got from the venue in Denver are wrong, so I have to redo the whole thing. If you want to have a show,” he looks pointedly at Conor, “you’ll leave me in peace or I’ll make sure you get terrible lighting.”

“Don’t you have to work on lighting with Colin?” Cale asks, smirking.

“What’s your point?” Tyson asks, cheeks flushing. 

“Make sure to actually work, okay?” Cale asks. “I guess my room’s open then.”

“I’ll delete your instagram!”

“You don’t know how to work an iPhone!” Cale calls back as they walk back out the door.

They head towards Cale’s room, each trying to beat the other, and end up running down the hall. Conor has the advantage with his longer legs, but Cale is right behind him and boxes him in against the door. “I win!” proclaims Conor, his back against the door. 

“Good work, bud. You can’t get in without the key though, which I have.” Cale presses closer. 

“Maybe you should get it out so you can properly reward me for winning, huh?” Conor shifts to slot one of his legs between Cale’s. 

Cale hums consideringly. “I don’t know, do you really deserve a reward for that? It was a pretty close race.”

Conor is leaning in to kiss Cale when the door opens behind him and he nearly topples over. There’s a solid body behind him that catches him, and he turns around to give Colin a sheepish look. 

“You two _do_ know that I heard all of that, right? These walls are pretty thin.”

“I––” Conor says.

“Colin, Tyson’s desperate for your attention.” Cale says, and Conor’s trying desperately not to get more aroused by how flushed Cale is while still leaning against Colin which––_Timmins, oh my god, stand up._ “Practically begging for you when we were in Conor’s room.”

It’s Colin’s turn to blush. “I was on my way there anyway. Sound cues in Denver and all that.”

“I thought it was lighting,” Cale raises an eyebrow.

“I’ll tell EJ,” Colin shoots back.

Conor sighs. “Why don’t we pretend like this never happened?” 

“Don’t touch my bed and we have a deal,” Colin says. “I’m giving you two hours before I’m back, and I have no desire to see either of your dicks, so try to be conscious of the time, please.”

Cale grins at Conor. “Think that’ll be enough time for Tyson? He did say he was all about quality over quantity.” 

Colin doesn’t dignify that with a response, just heads out the door. “Two hours!” he reminds them before he closes it. 

“I kind of want to use his bed just because he told us not to, but also I don’t want to know what he’s like when he’s angry,” Conor says.

“I don’t even know if he can get angry,” Cale responds, “but I don’t think I actually want to find out. Anyway, you heard the man, we’re on a schedule here.” He gives a playful swat to Conor’s ass and then throws himself onto his bed. 

Conor can’t quite choke down the moan that escapes him when Cale’s hand makes contact, and he fervently hopes Cale didn’t hear him. Cale strips off his shirt, leaning back on the bed. 

“C’mon, baby,” he says, his voice a little more rough. 

Conor gets with the program and undoes his belt, pushing down his pants and boxers and stripping off his shirt before straddling Cale. “Hey.”

“Hey you,” Cale says softly, smiling up at Conor. He leans in to kiss him, and Conor rolls his hips up against Cale’s abs for contact. “Heard something interesting about you.”

Conor stills, pulling back from Cale’s lips. “What would that be?”

Cale’s hands trail down his sides to grip at Conor’s ass. “Something interesting coming from your mouth when I spanked you.”

The noise Conor makes could generously be called a squeak. He can feel his face get hot and he ducks do he doesn’t have to look at Cale’s face.

“Hey, hey, hey, baby, no, look at me,” Cale says, and brings his hand to Conor’s face to tilt it back up. “Don’t be embarrassed. I just thought that might have been something you were into and I wanted to talk about it.”

Conor still can’t quite bring himself to look at Cale, but he nods. “Yeah, I… I liked it. Kind of a lot.”

“Well, I like _you_ kind of a lot, and I really like making you feel good, so if that’s something you like, I want to do it for you.”

Conor smiles. “We need like, a safeword.”

“Are the traffic lights okay?” Cale asks, holding out his hand for Conor to take. “Red, yellow, and green?”

“Yeah, I’m comfortable with that,” Conor says. “I need to be able to perform tonight, so we can’t go all out tonight.” He flushes dark, and Cale chuckles.

“There’ll be other nights, don’t worry,” Cale says, smiling.

Conor feels like he’s on fire and he’s not sure which of the emotions he’s going through is responsible for it. He’s still embarrassed, but he’s also kind of overwhelmed by how caring Cale is and he might still be in shock from Cale’s blunt statement of how much he likes Conor. 

“I like you too,” Conor says. “By the way.” 

“Yeah? Good. Now, want me to spank you during sex?” Cale asks, smirking as Conor flushes. His hips jerk up against Cale’s abs, and Cale chuckles.

“I think that’s a yes, but I’m going to need you to tell me with words, baby,” Cale says.

Fuck.

“I want you to spank me,” Conor says, eyes squeezed shut.

This time, it’s Cale who moans. “Fuck, Con, that’s so hot, you have no idea.” He drags Conor down for a kiss that’s downright filthy, and Conor can’t help but grind against Cale’s abs. Cale’s hips twitch under him as Cale seeks friction against his own dick, and it’s a lot. Conor shifts, trying to give Cale something to grind against as he thrusts against Cale and Cale shudders. “Wanna spank you, see how pretty and pink your ass gets, and then come all over you.” 

Conor bites down hard on Cale’s neck and jerks against him. That gets him a groan, and Cale loops one of his legs around Conor’s to pull him closer. 

“Do it,” Conor murmurs into Cale’s ear.

Cale brings his hand down against Conor’s ass and spanks him. Conor keens, gripping his shoulders. 

“Oh, fuck.” Conor moans, grinding back down against Cale. His body’s on fire, like it’s radiating from the spot where Cale’s hand landed, and it’s almost too much for him to handle. “Do it again.”

Cale strokes his hand over the spot he hit, pausing to squeeze his cheek. “Your ass is incredible.” He slips a finger between Conor’s cheeks and brushes over his hole. “Can’t wait to feel what it’s like to fuck you too.”

Conor forgets how to breathe for a moment. When he figured it out again, he buries his hand in Cale’s hair and rocks his hips desperately. “You’re going to kill me, fuck.”

Cale takes advantage of Conor’s distraction and smacks the other cheek and Conor shouts.   
“What’s your color, baby?” Cale asks.

“Green. So green. God, you’re gonna make me come,” Conor says. 

“I’m not far off,” Cale says. Conor chuckles, rolling his hips down against Cale’s just to hear his breath hitch. “God, I want to fuck you, and then eat you out until you’re ready to come again.”

Conor absolutely whimpers, wrapping his hand around his cock. “God you can’t just say these things.”

“Can and will. God, wanna fuck you without a condom, then just get you wet and sloppy with it,” Cale looks up at him dark through his eyelashes and that’s it, Conor’s coming in streaks over his abs and hand.

“Fuck, oh my god,” Conor moans, steadily rolling his hips down. “God, we should do that. Fuck, I wouldn’t even be able to perform. I’d hurt from being spanked.”

“I’d take care of you,” Cale says, his face heating, the flush travelling down his chest. “I’d blow you after the show for being so so good, performing through the ache.”

“C’mon, please––” Conor says. “Do it. Every word.”

Cale gasps, his hips jerking, then stilling. “Oh my––”

Conor looks at Cale’s blissed out face. “So, I think we found some things we need to try then.”

He gets a weak chuckle in response. “Oh yeah. But maybe next time, we can actually get my pants off first?” Cale grimaces. “Don’t get me wrong, the sex is _phenomenal_, but my laundry needs have gone up considerably.”

“I’d apologize, but I’m not sorry. Is it bad that I think it’s kind of hot that this keeps happening? But also I definitely want to get you naked all the time, so getting your pants off definitely won’t be a problem if you stop distracting me before I can get it done.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure, blame me. Wanna get off so I can maybe get rid of these pants?”

“Pretty sure that’s what just happened, but okay,” Conor smirks, but he rolls off to the side so Cale can take off his ruined pants. 

“More dad jokes,” Cale mutters. He shoves his pants off and then uses his ruined boxers to wipe up most of the mess on both of them. Conor snorts, leaning in to kiss him.

Cale hums, rolling over so he’s on top of Conor. “So tell me more about what you want.”

Conor flushes. “I just want you to fuck me.”

“I can do that.” Cale reaches over on the side table for his bag, and brings out a bottle of lube and a condom.

“I––” Conor flushes. “I’m clean, if you want to know.”

“Okay,” Cale says, tossing the bag back onto the table, and then he freezes, eyes growing wide. “Wait. Fuck, you mean you––I––wow. Um. Me too. If you want what I think you want––”

Conor cuts him off with a kiss. Seeing Cale falling apart at his suggestion makes him bold. “Yeah, I’m telling you I want you to fuck me bare.”

Cale lets out a string of curses and kisses Conor, biting at his bottom lip. “Fuck, yeah, we can do that.” He sits up and grabs the lube, squeezing some out onto his fingers. “You gotta tell me what you like, okay?” 

Conor nods and Cale scoots down the bed to settle between his legs. He starts slowly, rubbing a lubed finger around Conor’s rim. Conor tries not to flinch from the cold, but it warms quickly on his skin and he settles into Cale’s touch. Cale eases the tip of his finger past the ring of muscle and Conor whimpers. It’s not bad, just weird at first, and he just wants to get through this part to where it feels _good_. 

“C’mon, Cale, you can do more,” he urges, and Cale complies, working his full finger in and allowing Conor to adjust before he starts sliding it in and out. Before too long, Conor feels Cale press a second finger at his opening and ease it in. It’s a stretch and he bites at his lip, but Cale is watching and pauses, pets comfortingly at Conor’s hip with his free hand. 

“I’ve got you,” Cale murmurs. He bends down and sucks the head of Conor’s dick into his mouth as he starts to move his fingers again and Conor doesn’t worry about fitting Cale’s fingers anymore. 

“Fuck,” Conor moans, gasping when Cale curls his fingers. “Shit oh my––”

Cale licks a stripe up Conor’s cock, humming. “Yeah?”

“More, _please,_” Conor says, rocking his hips back against Cale’s fingers. Cale chuckles, curling his fingers again, and Conor’s back arches off the bed. “Fuck, fuck, oh my god––”

“I’ve got you,” Cale says, slipping in a third finger. Conor fucks himself back on Cale’s fingers, but Cale’s completely missing his prostate. Conor whimpers, desperate for more contact, more friction, more _something._

“Stop teasing,” Conor whines.

“Had to get revenge for my pants somehow,” Cale smirks before rubbing against Conor’s prostate almost meanly. Conor lets out a string of profanities, his cock twitching against his stomach.

“Get fucked, god,” Conor says, not even able to say it with a straight face because Cale is still smiling so _wide_ and Conor is still just so taken with him.

“I plan to after I finish stretching you,” Cale shoots back.

“Wait, I thought I was the one getting fucked here.”

Cale presses hard against Conor’s prostate. “Details, details. What do you think? Are you ready for me?”

“God, yes, fuck, get in me,” Conor all but begs. Cale delivers one final press of his fingers to Conor’s prostate before sliding his fingers out and slicking up his own cock. 

“How do you want it, babe?” Cale asks. “Like this, or do you want to be on your hands and knees or something?”

“Can I––” Conor rolls over and presses himself up onto his hands and knees. “If we do it like this, you can spank me.”

Cale groans. “How are you even real? Of course we can do that, baby.” He drapes himself across Conor’s back and Conor cranes his neck so they can kiss. Conor can feel Cale’s dick between his cheeks and presses back, desperate to get Cale inside him. 

Cale seems to get the message and pulls back so he can line up his dick with Conor’s hole. Before he presses in, Cale brings his hand down against Conor’s ass in a sharp slap and Conor groans and drops his head between his arms. Cale chooses that moment to thrust forward and Conor feels the head of his dick pop past his rim. 

The slide in is slow and smooth and Conor feels so full. Once he’s bottomed out, Cale pauses to let Conor adjust. It’s a lot in the best way. 

It takes a couple of minutes before Conor’s ready, but before long, he’s squirming against Cale’s hips. “God, please, move.”

Cale pulls out and grinds back in, his fingers gripping tight enough that Conor thinks they’ll probably leave bruises. Conor meets Cale’s hips after a couple thrusts, clenching down when Cale squeezes his hips.

“God, you’re fucking amazing,” Cale says, his voice strained. “I can’t even believe you.”

“You’re––fuck––you’re one to talk,” Conor moans, grinding back against him. Cale brings his hand down against Conor and Conor lets out a moan higher pitched than he’d ever care to admit. 

“Fuck, Conor,” Cale moans.

“That’s,” Conor pauses and whines as Cale nails his prostate, “that’s the idea.”

Rather than responding, Cale thrusts in again and hits Conor’s prostate. He keeps it up and Conor is unable to say anything at all, instead moaning helplessly against his arm. Cale spanks him again and Conor feels like he’s about to shake apart. He’s so hard and he wants to come, but he also wants to stay like this forever.

Conor clenches around Cale, smirking as he hears Cale whine. Cale leans down and presses a kiss to Conor’s neck and down his shoulder as he grinds in. He reaches around and wraps a hand around Conor’s dick, swiping his thumb at the head of Conor’s dick.

“Cale––” Conor whines, meeting Cales hips. He’s trying desperately to decide whether he wants to grind against Cale or thrust into his hand. “Baby, please.”

“What do you need, Con? C’mon baby, want you to come on my dick.” Cale starts jerking Conor off in the same rhythm he’s fucking him. It only takes a handful of strokes before Conor is coming over Cale’s hand and his own chest and the sheets below him. His arms give out and he buries his face in the pillow below him. 

Cale stops thrusting and pets over Conor’s pink ass. “Shit, that was so hot. Want me to pull out?”

Conor shakes his head. “Want you to come in me,” he slurs out. 

Cale groans low in his throat. “God, you’re fucking incredible,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of Conor’s back. He pulls out and grinds back in, moaning as Conor clenches around him.

“C’mon, please, want you,” Conor says, meeting Cale’s hips the best he can. 

Cale whines, thrusts once, twice, and he comes hard in Conor, leaning over to bite at the juncture of Conor’s neck and his shoulder.

Cale wraps an arm around Conor’s waist and tips to the side so they end up spooning. “Oh my god, I think you killed me.”

Conor hums happily and pats Cale’s arm. “Pretty good way to go, right? Ten out of ten, would die like this again.”

Cale giggles and presses a kiss to the back of Conor’s neck. “You ready for me to pull out and clean up?” 

Conor nods in agreement and Cale slowly pulls out and stares at the trickle of his come that leaks out of Conor’s hole. “Holy fuck. Conor, oh my god.”

Conor flushes under Cale’s gaze. “What?” he says, looking over his shoulder.

Cale’s cheeks are rosy as he glances up at him. “Remember what I said earlier?”

Conor furrows his eyebrows, then gasps as he understands. “Fuck, Cale. You’re gonna kill me.”

“I don’t have to do it, but––”

“Please do, oh my god,” Conor says. Cale grins wickedly, pulling Conor’s cheeks apart and thumbing over his hole. Conor turns on his belly, burying his face in his arms as Cale licks a stripe up Conor’s hole. “Fuck, Cale––”

Cale presses his tongue into Conor and hums against his rim. Conor whimpers as Cale licks his own come out of him. It’s without a doubt the hottest thing that’s ever happened in Conor’s life and it’s almost painful how his dick is already trying to get hard again. 

“Cale,” he moans. “Cale, god, hang on.”

Cale pulls away quickly. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m so good, I just wanna turn over. I want to see you.” He rolls over and Cale settles back in between his legs. Cale lifts Conor up and licks into him, humming as Conor arches his back. “Holy fuck, baby…”

It’s almost too much to see Cale in between his legs, eating him out like Conor’s his last meal, but it’s surreal and intoxicating and there’s really no place else Conor would rather be. “God–– finger–– you can use a finger.”

Cale pulls back and wipes come from his lower lip. “It’s not too much for you?”

“God, you looking like that in general is too much. I just want you,” Conor says. Cale presses a kiss to Conor’s inner thigh.

“I’ve got you baby,” Cale says, licking into Conor, getting him wet and sloppy before slipping in a finger. 

The combined sensation of Cale’s finger and tongue make Conor’s head spin. Cale keeps it gentle, just working his finger in and out as he licks and sucks at Conor’s rim, but Conor is still sensitive from getting fucked and it feels incredible. After what feels sort of like an eternity, but is probably only a few minutes, Conor’s dick starts to get back on board with what’s happening. It’s not urgent though, and Cale is making happy noises between his legs, so Conor is pretty content to stay like this as long as Cale wants him there. 

He says as much and Cale pulls away long enough to grin at him. “Don’t tempt me. I could do this forever.” With that, he ducks back down and licks into Conor. 

“Oh, god I’m dead. You’ve killed me. I’m absolutely dead and g––oh god, do that again!” Conor moans as Cale curls his finger against Conor’s prostate. He’s oversensitive and everything is too much, and he _loves_ it. 

“You’re gorgeous. Absolutely amazing,” Cale says, wrapping his free hand around Conor’s dick. Conor gasps, whining as he thrusts into Cale’s hand. “You like that?”

“Fuck, yeah,” Conor says, flushing. Cale tightens his grip, jerking him off at a slower pace. He pulls out his finger and sucks at Conor’s rim, humming as Conor whines beneath him.

“Cale,” he groans, dragging the name out to have multiple syllables. “More, please.” He squirms and tries to thrust up into Cale’s hand without moving away from his mouth, but Cale maintains his infuriatingly slow pace.

“You look so good like this, though. God, you’re so hot when you get desperate.”

Conor whimpers and grinds his hips back against Cale’s face as Cale fucks him with his tongue, but he doesn’t argue. Cale eases a finger back inside, but this time he pauses jerking Conor off, instead keeping a tight grip at the base of Conor’s dick. 

Cale manages to find Conor’s prostate almost instantly and rubs against it insistently as he continues to lick at Conor’s rim and Conor wants to come so badly, but he _can’t_ and it’s overwhelming in the best possible way. 

Cale pulls his mouth away. “You’re so into this, aren’t you? This is so fucking hot. One of these days, I’m going to get you in bed and tease you for as long as I can.”

Conor will deny the noise he makes forever, but if it weren’t for Cale’s fingers wrapped firmly around him, he would have come on the spot. 

“Oh, is there something you want?” Cale asks, his voice raspy and kind of fucked out, and Conor just––

“Make me come, _please,_” he begs, and Cale grins.

“All you had to do was ask, baby,” he says, wrapping his lips around the head of Conor’s cock. Conor absolutely wails at the overwhelming feeling. He’s got no way to thrust into Cale’s mouth, so he just has to take the feeling as it comes.

“Please, please, please,” he begs, gasping as Cale sinks his mouth down on Conor’s cock, hollowing his cheeks. Cale curls his finger, rubbing almost meanly against Conor’s prostate and that’s it, Conor comes hard down Cale’s throat. Cale smiles when he comes off, chuckling as Conor practically drags him up for a kiss. “Fucking incredible.”

“Yeah, you are,” Cale replies, kissing him again. When he breaks the kiss, he wraps a hand around himself and starts jerking off. Conor would help, but he feels sort of like he’s melted and he’s not actually sure he can manage enough coordination to be useful, so instead he just stays where he is and watches the flex of Cale’s arm and the way his cock slides through his fist. 

“You should come on me,” Conor says, and Cale groans and speeds up his hand. It doesn’t take long before Cale is spilling across Conor’s already messy stomach and chest before flopping down on top of him. 

“Hi,” he says, picking up his head enough to meet Conor’s eyes. “That was pretty fucking great.” 

Conor wraps his arms around Cale and kisses his forehead. “Probably the best thing I’ve ever experienced in my life.” 

They stay like that for a few minutes, wrapped up in each other while they catch their breath. Eventually though, it starts to get gross. Conor is definitely in the wet spot and they’re basically glued together with cooled, drying come, and as nice as it is to cuddle, Conor really just needs a shower. He says as much to Cale, who agrees. 

“We probably don’t have that long until Colin is back anyway. Shower with me? I promise I won’t try anything.”

“Honestly, I don’t even think I could get it up again if you did,” Conor says with a laugh. 

Cale grins. “At most I can promise you that I’ll wash your hair for you, because I don’t think iI can trust you to stand up by yourself right now.”

Conor thinks for a moment. “Yeah, no, I can believe that.” He doesn’t try to ignore how his chest fills with butterflies at Cale offering to wash his hair for him. “Are you sure you can reach my head when I stand up?”

Cale raises his eyebrows. “Oh, are we playing that game?” he says, grinning. “I’m not _that_ much shorter than you.”

“That’s what short people say,” Conor shrugs.

“I’m a perfectly normal height, thank you very much. It’s not my fault you’re freakishly tall.” 

“Hey, whatever helps you sleep at night,” Conor says with a wink. With that, he rolls off the bed and walks towards the bathroom. Cale wolf whistles at him and Conor shakes his hips. 

The shower is actually large enough to fit the both of them, which Conor is very glad for. Under the hot water, he does actually think Cale was right to be worried about his ability to stand on his own. His legs still feel like jello and the idea of having to actually wash himself sounds like a lot of effort. Cale seems more than up to the job though, and Conor just stands there and enjoys the feeling of Cale’s hands on him as he lathers up and spreads the suds across his skin. 

Conor was very serious about not being able to go another round, but he can’t help but kiss Cale as he moves in to wash Conor’s hair. It stays soft and sweet, the two of them just enjoying being close. When Cale moves his hands up to work the shampoo into Conor’s hair, he nearly purrs with satisfaction. 

“God, you’re adorable,” Cale says, pressing a kiss to Conor’s neck after the shampoo is rinsed from his hair.

“I try,” Conor say, looking down at him with tired eyes. Cale chuckles. 

“I hope you don’t have any scoop neck shirts, Con,” he says. Conor furrows his brows.

“Why?” he asks, then flushes as Cale presses a finger gently against his bite mark. 

“Oh,” Conor says, a little breathless. “God, I wish I could go again.”

Cale groans. “You’re literally going to kill me. Are you that into me marking you up?”

Conor grins bashfully. “Is it bad if I say yes? It’s just really hot, okay? I like feeling like I’m yours.” He says that last part more to the ground than anything else. It’s probably too soon to be saying things like that, but Cale already knows he wrote a song for him, so he goes for it. He’s rewarded with a beautiful flush that spreads across Cale’s face. 

“You can’t just say things like that, oh my god. You have to wear a turtleneck or something now. There’s no way I’ll be able to focus now if I see you marked up.” 

“Maybe you’ll just have to do it where no one else can see.”

“Maybe I will,” Cale says. He runs his eyes over Conor like he’s searching for the best places to bite and Conor shivers. 

There’s a banging on the bathroom door and they both flinch. 

“Hey guys,” yells Colin, “I want to shower before we leave, so if you could hurry it up in there, that would be great.”

“I totally forgot he was coming back again,” Cale says with a laugh. 

“Yeah. I guess we should probably get out.” Conor says. “I’ll see you on the bus?”

“Go team.” Cale kisses him quickly.

\---

The bus is, in a word, boring.

In multiple words, the tour bus to Denver is absolutely the most boring place in the world, and Conor drew one of the short straws, so he doesn’t even have the pull out bed this time. He’s in the middle of trying to write lyrics to a song––aka beat the newest level of Peggle Blast––when Cale sits next to him on the couch. 

“New song?” he says quietly. Everyone else on the bus is asleep, save for the driver. 

“Yeah, you can see I’m working incredibly hard,” Conor grins, locking his phone and setting his notebook and phone to the side. He looks up and it’s like the breath is knocked out of him. “You wear glasses?”

Cale huffs out a laugh, taking the blanket from the arm of the couch and resting it on his lap. “I should be wearing glasses, but I don’t always. My head hurt from not having used them, so I put them on.”

Conor nods dumbly. “Yeah, definitely. You look––”

“Like a nerd?” Cale grins, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Not… not the word I was going to use,” Conor says.

“A dweeb? A dork?”

“I was going to go with ‘super fucking hot’, but whatever you want.”

“Wait, really?” Cale flushes. “You like them? They’re so nerdy though.”

“Sure, if you mean nerdy like the hot TA everyone wants to bang,” Conor says. “Seriously, so hot. I’d say you should wear them all the time, but I’d never be able to focus.”

Cale has the gall to give him a _look_ over the top of his glasses and Conor’s breath catches. 

“Yeah, yup, uh zshuh, those are really doing it for me,” Conor mutters. “Why are we stuck on the bus? This isn’t fair.”

“I mean,” Cale flushes hard, looking around. “I don’t think anyone’s awake?”

Conor’s jaw drops, and then he closes it, and then it drops open. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he says, throwing one of his legs over Conor’s. “We don’t necessarily have to leave the room.”

“Oh my––” Conor says, choking off a moan as Cale grinds down against him. “Holy–– you can’t––”

“You’re just gonna have to stay quiet, baby,” Cale says with a smirk, grinning wider as Conor flushes darker. “Think you can do that?”

Conor nods and bites down on his fist as he thrusts his hips up to meet Cale’s leg. It’s so easy to reach his free hand over to press against the growing bulge in Cale’s pants, and Cale rewards him with a sharp inhalation. 

Cale shifts closer so he can press his leg tighter into Conor’s lap and Conor has to clench his teeth to stop the noise he wants to make. Between Cale’s glasses and the thrill of doing this on the bus where any of his band mates or crew could catch them, Conor is ridiculously turned on already and the friction of Cale’s leg feels so good. 

He grinds against Cale, trying to keep the movement as inconspicuous as he can. Cale looks far too pleased about the situation, so Conor slips his hand beneath Cale’s sweats to run his fingers over his dick. 

Cale whimpers out Conor’s name, and arousal thrums through Conor way too easily. “It’s that easy to get you to make a sound?”

Cale squeezes his eyes shut and buries his face in Conor’s neck. “Shut up––”

He’s cut off by Conor squeezing him gently. “God you are not being fair at _all_.”

“I’m sorry, didn’t someone say earlier _who ever said anything about being fair?_” Conor grins as Cale whines in Conor’s neck. He presses kisses to Conor’s neck, biting right near the mark he’d left earlier that day, and Conor can feel Cale’s smirk as Conor groans.

Conor tightens his fist around Cale in retaliation, which backfires when Cale bites down on his neck. Conor bucks his hips up against Cale’s leg. Cale is twitching his hips in these little aborted thrusting movements, which serves the double purpose of sliding his dick in Conor’s grip and pressing his leg harder against Conor every time he shifts. 

“Are you close?” Cale whispers in Conor’s ear. “I want you to come for me, baby. God, I wish I could suck you off and have you come on my face.”

There’s no hiding the groan that gets out of Conor, and he’s desperate for release. He starts thrusting up against Cale’s leg in earnest, chasing his orgasm. 

“That’s it, Con. Come for me, that’s it.” Cale keeps murmuring in his ear, filthy things about how much he wants Conor to come, and that does it for him. He grinds up one final time and shudders as he comes. “God, you’re so good.”

“You’re one to talk,” Conor says, jerking Cale off faster, delighting in hearing Cale’s little punched out gasps. Conor leans forward and sucks a mark high on Cale’s neck where he won’t be able to hide it tomorrow. “You treated me so well, Cale.”

Cale whines, breathing hard as he arches his neck. 

“That’s it, c’mon, baby,” Conor says, kissing Cale as he reaches around grabs Cale’s ass. Cale gasps against his lips and comes hard over Conor’s hand.

Conor sits there, catching his breath as Cale’s come cools in his hand and his own makes his boxers stick to him, and the reality of the situation hits him like a train. He can’t help the nearly manic giggles that bubble out of him. “Holy shit, dude, we’re _hours_ away from Denver. We have to sit like this for so long.”

Cale laughs too, and soon the two of them are cracking up. “Shhhhhh,” Cale hushes Conor between his own giggles. “We have to be quiet or we’ll wake them up!” 

That just makes Conor laugh harder. He’s not really sure what would be more uncomfortable: sitting in his own gross boxers for the next however many hours or having to explain to Josty or EJ, or god forbid, _Colin,_ why he and Cale are near hysterics. 

He takes a deep breath and manages to stop the laughter. “Alright, well, uhhhh, I’m gonna go wash my hands off, at least.” He’s incredibly grateful that their bus has a bathroom. He washes his hands and decides that freeballing it is going to be a way better choice than sitting in his messy boxers, so he pulls those off as well to shove in a pocket of his backpack to deal with later. 

“Hey,” Cale says when Conor sits down. “I––what is this?”

“What’s what?” Conor asks, turning to face him. Cale gestures between them.

“Us. Is it just a hookup, or?” Cale says, flushing.

“Um,” Conor pauses, but he figures he’s already basically shown his hand. “I mean, if that’s what you want it to be, but I was kind of thinking we could be like, together. Like boyfriends.” 

“Boyfriends sounds good,” Cale says. “I was hoping you would say that.”

Conor lets out a tiny incredulous laugh. “I wrote you a _song. Of course_ I was going to say that.”

“I wasn’t sure,” Cale flushes, though he grins, and Conor’s just… intoxicated. Addicted to that smile. “I wanted to ask for sure.”

“Well, for sure,” Conor holds out his pinky.

“For sure,” Cale says, locking his pinky with Conor’s, before leaning in to kiss him deep.

\---

Unfortunately for their necks, Cale and Conor end up falling asleep on top of each other on the couch. They are, however, woken up by EJ scrounging for food.

“EJ?” Conor blinks awake at the sound of bowls clattering.

“Yeah, hey hi,” EJ says, sounding incredibly disinterested. “Listen. I’ve developed a lactose allergy. Do you know where the nut milk is? You seem to like it a lot.”

“Oh my god, it’s too early for this,” Cale says, his face buried in Conor’s neck.

“Oh, would you rather I go put my glasses on?” EJ asks. “Or is _sexy college TA that everyone wants to bang_ only a title fit for Cale?”

Cale flushes pink and Conor opens his mouth to say something, but he can’t come up with a reply. Thankfully, EJ is distracted by Sam calling to him. 

“Erik, leave them alone, you are supposed to be bringing me food. If you want to wear your glasses when you get back here though…” 

Conor knows they have very little room to judge, given that they did hook up on the couch, but hearing Sam blatantly proposition EJ is way more that he’s prepared to deal with on as little sleep as he’s gotten. 

“Hey, how long until we get to Denver?” He hopes it’s very soon. He could do with a real bed, because his neck definitely regrets the time on the couch, and he’d also like some time with Cale _without_ his bandmates right next to him. 

“I dunno, two more hours, I think? Ask Colin.” EJ grabs a box of Cheerios and shoves a handful in his mouth. “Anyway, I’m out.” 

EJ disappears back to the back of the bus and Conor groans. “I literally do not understand him at all.”

“Look. I majored in linguistics in college, and he’s got his own fucking language.” Cale yawns, curling into Conor. 

“Are you really?”

“No. But I did take French, and let me tell you, learning French is much easier than learning EJ,” Cale says. 

Conor snorts. “Of course. I’ll paint you like one of my many French boys.”

“Oh, your many French boys?” Cale asks.

“Well, there’s Sam,” Conor begins, smiling as Cale laughs.

“I think Sam is his own French boy,” Cale says. 

“He’s definitely something, that’s for sure.”

Conor wraps his arm around Cale’s shoulders and pulls him close. “Have I ever told you how much I appreciate that you’re basically the only person on this entire tour who isn’t unbelievably weird? Because I really, really appreciate that.” 

Cale chuckles and rests his head on Conor’s shoulder. “Everyone else is exceptionally weird, yeah. I’m glad we have each other.”

Conor kisses the top of Cale’s head. “Me too. Hey, do we have ice time yet for when we get to Denver? I can’t wait to see you play.”

“Yeah, I found us a place. It’s pretty close to the hotel too. It’s gonna be great.”

“Can’t wait to watch your stick handling,” Conor grins and winks at him. 

“Did you just––did you just proposition me with hockey?” Cale asks. “I take it back, you are weird.” there’s a moment before Cale speaks again. “Besides, you’ve watched my stick handling, and I don’t think you have anything bad to say about it”

Conor flushes dark. “I guess I’m just going to have to see it in action again.”

“Whose stick handling are we seeing now?” Josty wanders over and plops down on the couch next to Cale. Cale gives Conor a look of horror. 

“We’re talking about our hockey game in Denver. Cale is talking a big game about his hockey skills, but I still think I’m going to win,” Conor says in a rush. 

“I dunno, man, he’s pretty good. My money is totally on Cale.” Josty bumps his shoulder against Cale. “Also, dude, I need you to win because that video is too good not to post, and I need access to a copy of it.”

“Absolutely not. That video is never going to see the light of day,” Conor protests. “That was never a part of the bet.”

“Dude,” Josty says, furrowing his eyebrows. “Screen recording is a thing.”

Conor looks absolutely horrified as Cale laughs against him. “Right. Screen recording.” 

“Anyway, I’ve gotta wake up the boys,” Josty grins, standing up. “And just for the record, if anyone has Big Sexy TA Energy on this tour, it’s Alexander.”

Conor chokes. “I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”

Josty crosses his arms. “Yup, sure you don’t. Just disinfect the couch, please.” he says, winking before he walks away.

“As if you haven’t fucked on furniture that we all sit on,” Conor calls to him. 

Josty just flips him off. 

“Does anyone on this bus _not_ know what we got up to?” Cale mutters. 

“Honestly, EJ probably has a group chat with everyone but us devoted to making fun of us,” Conor says darkly. 

“I just wouldn’t even be surprised. Hopefully he leaves Colin out of it, at least.” Cale shudders as he says it. Conor doesn’t blame him. The idea of Colin getting updates from EJ about their shenanigans kind of makes him want to throw himself off the bus. 

“Maybe Colin just ignores it,” Conor says.

“Maybe Colin has earplugs,” Tyson calls from his bed. “One could only be so lucky.”

“Go back to sleep,” Conor calls back.

“I’m trying, I’ve been up for a while listening to the lead singer fuck my coworker on the couch.” Tyson says.

“Oh my god.” Cale says. “You know, when you have doe eyes and drag Colin to the bathroom, we look the other way.”

“Yeah, that’s because apparently you guys don’t even bother with getting into a private place,” Tyson grins, slipping out of the bunk. “Relax. Everything’s fine. I’ll tell Colin to tell EJ to knock it off if it really bothers you.”

“That’s entirely unnecessary,” Conor tells him. Honestly, the idea of Tyson going to Colin to complain about EJ making fun of him and Cale is even more embarrassing than the idea of Colin overhearing them. 

“Okay, but maybe we should try to be a little less obvious going forward,” Cale whispers. Conor agrees with the sentiment, but Cale’s low voice in his ear is making him want to do the exact opposite. 

“We should nap until we get to the hotel. That should keep us out of trouble, right?”

“Mmmm, good plan.” Cale curls up with his head on Conor’s chest and closes his eyes. 

They manage to sleep until the bus arrives at the hotel, and Conor only has 10 messages from his various bandmates and crew members containing photos of of him and Cale sleeping. It’s surely a step in the right direction, until he gets to EJ’s, where he’s put little heart emojis all around them.

“EJ,” Conor calls.

“What? You don’t like my work of art?” EJ asks, and Conor’s not even going to begin thinking about the fact that EJ has a hickey high up on his neck.

“Look, Colin’s the only one out of all of you that didn’t take a photo, he’s my new favorite.” Conor says, walking off the bus with Cale.

Tyson snorts. “Yeah. Dude took a video. It was cute. Cale talks in his sleep, did you know that?” 

Conor turns to see Cale flushing. “What’d I say?”

“Lots of mumbling, and then Conor’s name. Thought I should put a blanket on you guys just in case it became a more active dream,” Colin says, the tops of his cheeks turning pink.

“Oh my god, I didn’t have a _sex dream_ on the bus,” Cale says.

“You were very intent on sticking to his side though,” Tyson shrugs, a grin spreading across his face. “It was cute.”

Cale flushes darker. “Thank… you?”

EJ rolls his eyes. “We called Gabe. He’s switched the room assignments. Conor, you’re switching with Colin.”

“Wait, we’ve gotta hear them on the other side of the room now?” JT says. 

“To be fair, they’re no less quiet than you three are,” Colin says.

“Yes, but there’s _three of us._ They do that with just _them._” Alexander protests.

“Well, you’re going to get silence for a while because we’ve gotta get to the rink.” Conor rolls his eyes, trying to stop the conversation before Tyson brings up his Celine Dion sex playlist. He grabs Cale’s hand and starts to walk away.

“Have fun, boys. Be safe,” EJ calls to them, shooting them an obnoxious wink. 

They get to the rink and there are already skates in their size set aside, along with sticks, gloves and helmets. The ice is freshly zambonied and there are nets set up. Conor takes a deep breath, breathing in the crisp scent of the ice. He wouldn’t trade his life with the band for the world, but he does miss playing hockey. 

“Hey,” he says, grabbing for Cale’s hand. “Thanks. This is really great.” 

Cale smiles up at him and kisses him softly. “You ready for me to kick your ass?”

“Way to ruin the moment! But I think you’re the one who’s getting his ass kicked.”

Cale laughs. “Come on, only way to find out is to get out here.” He shoves a pair of skates at Conor and grabs his own before sitting down on the bench and taking off his shoes. 

Conor follows Cale to the ice and waits at the gate as Cale glides out. Watching him as he carves lazy curves across the fresh surface is almost hypnotic. Cale moves like he was born to skate, and tucked in with Conor’s admiration for his skill is a small seed of doubt about the outcome of the game.

“You’re on,” Conor says, pushing down the doubt. “Remember, the person who wins buys the other dinner.”

“As if I wasn’t going to buy you dinner anyway,” Cale says, shooting Conor a smug smirk. He starts practicing his handling the puck and… yeah. Okay. Conor’s nervous.

“Is that how it’s gonna be?” he asks, skating up to him and stealing the puck before tearing down the other way. Conor hears Cale curse and laugh from behind him, and Conor shoots the puck in the goal before Cale even reaches him. “It’s one nothing, try that, mister _I’m kind of a big deal in hockey_.” 

Cale rolls his eyes, smiling as he fishes the puck out of the net with his stick. “I just wasn’t ready,” he says.

“Oh definitely,” Conor chirps. “I believe you. It’s first to three right?”

“Yep. We can go first to five if you’re too scared, though,” Cale grins.

“Well, I’m currently winning, so if anyone should be scared, I think it’s you.” 

Cale sticks out his tongue and fishes the puck out of the net. “That’s the only time you’re scoring tonight, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

Conor skates forward to box Cale in against the front of the net. “I sure hope that’s not the only time I’m scoring tonight. I had _plans_ for later.”

“Oh, did you now?” Cale says. He looks up at Conor from under his eyelashes and Conor’s breath catches. Suddenly, Cale has slipped away from the net and is racing towards the far end of the ice with the puck on his stick. Conor races after him, laughing. 

“That’s not fair! Seduction isn’t allowed!” 

Cale scores in Conor’s goal, laughing. “Seduction only isn’t allowed because we’re tied now. What happened to boxing me against the net?”

“Just because you’re easily turned on doesn’t mean it was seduction,” Conor shrugs. “Center ice, come on.”

“Hey!” Conor hears. He turns around and... it’s the guys.

“Oh my god.”

“You need a ref and goalies, right?” EJ asks. Somehow, he’s wearing a black and white striped ref shirt, and there’s goalie equipment piled up on the bleachers. “We came prepared.”

Conor is… not going to ask. 

“I can goalie!” Josty says.

“Just because you can do a split doesn’t mean you can do it on the ice,” JT rolls his eyes. Josty raises his eyebrows, steps out on the ice and goes down in a center split. “_Oh._”

JT has turned a shade of pink that really clashes terribly with his hair, and Kerf is just openly staring at Tyson on the ice. 

“Well, that sure is a thing,” EJ says. “Kerf, wanna be the other goalie?” 

Kerfy continues to stare, slightly open-mouthed, at where Tyson is picking himself back up from the ice. 

“Kerf? Kerfoot? _Alexander_!” EJ snaps his fingers in front of Kerfy’s face, which finally gets his attention. “Dude, you’re the other goalie. Pick your jaw up and get dressed.” 

Tyson and Kerf strap on their assortment of equipment and head out to the nets.

Conor immediately positions himself on Josty’s side of the ice. “Dibs on Tyson as my goalie!”

“That’s not fair! Kerf isn’t going to be able to focus for shit now,” Cale protests. 

“He does have a point, you know,” Sam agrees. 

EJ looks up at the ceiling like the universe is testing him personally with this, as if he hadn’t invited himself into the whole situation. “Fine, fine, we’ll switch goalies halfway through. The game will be twenty minutes. How does that sound?”

“Sounds fair,” JT says, gaze still trained on Josty’s legs. “Yeah, that’s nice.”

“JT, please go be horny in the stands,” Sam says, pushing him over to the seats. “We will be with Tyson and Colin, okay?”

“I’m going to be the ref. Good luck to you both,” EJ says, smiling.

“Yeah. you’re gonna need it,” Conor grins at Cale.

EJ grabs a puck and skates out to center ice and Conor and Cale set up for the faceoff. It feels a little bit ridiculous to have this much ceremony for a one-on-one game, but it’s also kind of hilarious, so Conor’s not going to complain. 

The puck drops and Cale wins the faceoff. He goes to deke around Conor and heads towards the net. He’s fast, but he’s close enough that Conor manages to catch him, sliding around in front to block him from getting a shot off. He can’t quite manage to get the puck away from him, though. Cale’s stick handling is phenomenal and if Conor weren’t currently devoted to making sure he can’t shoot, he’d definitely spend some time admiring it. As it is, Cale does a sweet spin move to get around him and fires a shot at the net. 

Remarkably, Tyson manages to block it and Conor races to collect the rebound. He streaks down the ice with Cale hot on his heels. He gets to the net, dekes the puck and shoots it bar down. 

“Holy fuck.” Cale says, sliding to a stop behind Conor. “There’s no way that should’ve gone in.” 

“I unfortunately _can’t_ do a split on skates, so this is the best you’re gonna get,” Alexander shrugs. Cale rolls his eyes, smiling as Conor snorts.

“Already winning,” he grins. “You nervous yet?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Stay confident. I’ll just be the underdog,” Cale grins.

EJ drops the puck and Cale once again wins the faceoff. This time, he blasts a shot past Tyson and pumps his fist in celebration.

“Watch out, I’m coming for you,” Cale says with a grin. 

Conor wins the next faceoff, but Cale manages to strip the puck from him before he gets a shot off. Conor chases him down and gets enough in his way that Cale’s shot goes wide. They go back and forth for a bit, neither of them scoring until Cale manages to sneak one through Josty’s five-hole when Josty decides to try to drop into the splits instead of blocking the shot in literally any other fashion. 

“And the underdog is on top!” Cale crows as he returns to center ice. 

“I’ll put you on top,” Conor mutters under his breath. Cale flushes, looking back at Conor. 

“What if I wanna be on the bottom?” Cale raises an eyebrow, smirking at Conor. 

“Can I call a penalty for flirting?” EJ asks. “Is that a thing I can do?”

“You can do anything, mon chum, but it is a 1 vs 1 match,” Sam calls. 

“Fine. Puck drop on center ice,” EJ says, skating over. ”I won’t hesitate to give penalty shots as punishment for egregious flirting going forward though.”

The game goes back and forth, and then the first ten minutes are up and it’s time to switch goalies, the score is 6-5 with Cale up by one. He’s not going to admit it, but now that he has the worse goalie––for a certain degree of worse, since both Josty and Kerf kind of suck––Conor is worried he’s going to actually lose the game. 

“Hope you’re prepared for me to stage a dramatic comeback,” Conor says as he sets up across from Cale for the faceoff. 

“Bring it on.”

Conor kind of regrets saying anything when Cale wins the next two faceoffs and manages to score off his initial breakaway on both. The worst––or maybe best––part is that Conor is trying really hard to stop him. Cale really is as good as he said he was. 

Conor ends up scoring on Josty with a minute left, and with a valiant effort, loses only by one.

“The underdog wins!” Cale says, slowing to a stop. Conor laughs.

“I guess you do,” he grins. “So what, you gonna wine and dine me later?”

“Wine and dine you, maybe do some other things,” Cale says, looking up at Conor.

“Oh my god, we have to share a wall with them,” JT calls.

“I promise you you won’t hear it,” Josty calls.

“You all need Jesus,” EJ says, which gets incredulous looks from everyone on the ice and in the stands. 

“Erik,” Alexander says slowly, “Every single person on this tour has not only _heard_ you and Sam have sex, we all know way more about your kinks than anyone you’re not sleeping with should know.”

EJ sticks his tongue out through the gap in his teeth. “Never said I wasn’t in the same position.” 

“More importantly, I want a copy of that video now, Cale. That was the more important part of this bet. You guys get dinner together all the time.” Josty is bouncing on his skates. 

“It’s on my work phone, which is back on the bus. I’ll worry about it once we finish showering.” 

Conor snorts. “Are you sure I can’t persuade you into deleting that video?”

“Nope, no can do sir,” Cale says, skating backwards with the biggest grin. “You can try though.”

“Can I pick where we go to eat, then?” Conor asks. “I’ll be kind with your money, since you’re paying.”

Cale rolls his eyes, though he laughs. “Thank you. You’re very kind.”

“Wow, you guys are gross,” Barrie says to them. Conor lets out an astonished laugh. 

“Really, dude? Of all the people here, _we’re_ the gross ones?”

“Yeah, man, everyone else just overshares their sex lives. You two do that _and_ have feelings all over the place. It’s gross.” 

Conor is ready to make a remark about how many feelings Tyson leaks everywhere when he so much as thinks about Colin, but Cale stops him with a hand on his arm. 

“Speaking of gross, I’m gonna hit the showers. We worked harder than I thought we would.”

“Oh, fuck. Me too,” Conor says, skating off the ice. 

“Please don’t fuck in the showers,” Colin calls after them. “This is a public place!”

Conor flushes though he walks right up next to Cale. “Making out with you isn’t fucking you, right?”

“Depends on how into it we get,” Cale says, and Conor knows the flush on his cheeks isn’t from skating.

“Well, knowing how much you like it, we should be careful,” Conor winks, walking into the locker room. 

Kerf and Josty end up showering at the rink as well, which does a solid job of keeping everyone’s shower PG. Once everyone is clean, the whole group heads back to the bus so they can get set up in the hotel. Cale picks up his work phone from the table and unlocks it; his eyebrows furrow.

“Oh,” Cale says. “Oh my god. Conor, did you delete the video off my phone?”

“I don’t even know your passcode, dude,” Conor says. He sure would’ve liked to, but when he looks up, he sees Cale’s surprised expression break. He winks at Conor.

He didn’t delete the video. Did he? 

“This is terrible! I can’t post the video, I didn’t have it backed up!”

“No!” Tyson wails, dropping to his knees. “The chirping opportunities. The follower count! All gone!”

“Dude. Brutes,” JT says. “You and your thirty six thousand closest friends are going to be just fine.”

“Sorry guys,” Cale says, almost overly sad. “I guess the video’s gone. But don’t worry. I bet Conor will do something else stupid in a couple of days.”

Conor takes back every nice thing he’s said about his boyfriend.

\---

Conor is nearly giddy with excitement over the fact that he’s officially rooming with Cale now. It’s not like asking Colin or Tyson to switch had been that terrible, but the teasing was pretty brutal. Now, though, no one has a key to their room or might need to come in unexpectedly, and Conor plans to take advantage of that fact. 

He crowds Cale up against the door as soon as they make it to their room. “How do you feel about postponing our dinner outing for a little bit?” he asks, lips inches from Cale’s.

Cale glances down at Conor’s lips and back up. “Yeah? What do you suppose we do with the time?”

Conor raises an eyebrow and smirks, leaning in to press a kiss at the corner of Cale’s mouth. “I’ve got a couple of ideas.” 

Cale chases his lips after Conor pulls away, flushing when Conor chuckles. “Of course you do,” he says, resting his hands on Conor’s hips. “You know how bad I wanted to say that the person who won gets a blowjob?”

“Is this you asking for a blowjob?” Conor asks, smiling.

“This is me asking you to do _something,_ Con,” Cale says.

“But I like this. You squirming, and I haven’t even touched you,” Conor grins.

“Yeah?” Cale says, eyes dark, “You like knowing how crazy you drive me? How much I want you all the time? God, Con, you’re so hot, I can’t focus around you sometimes because all I can think about is what I want you to do to me.” 

Conor feels like all the air gets punched out of his lungs. There are no words for what he’s feeling. Instead, he surges forward to catch Cale’s mouth in a biting kiss. His hands are everywhere, tugging Cale closer and running over his body and it feels like Conor can’t get close enough. 

Cale whimpers against his lips. Conor wraps his hands around Cale’s thighs and hoists him up so he’s pinned between the door and Conor’s body and urges Cale to wrap his legs around Conor’s waist. 

Cale does, grinding against him. “I swear to god, if I come in these clothes again––”

“I’ll get you out, I promise,” Conor groans. “I’d hold up my pinky but I’m kind of preoccupied.”

Cale grins, a small smile of a thing. “Okay.”

“But right now,” Conor says, leaning forward to kiss across Cale’s jaw and down his neck, “I kind of wanna tease you out of your mind.”

Cale whimpers.

“Yeah? Does that sound good? Me getting you so worked up you can’t even speak?”

Cale’s legs tighten where they’re wrapped around Conor’s waist. “Please, Con. Please.”

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby,” Conor says as he carries Cale towards the bed. He tips Cale down onto the mattress and waits as Cale scoots back to settle with his head on a pillow and then climbs over him. “Where am I going to start with you, hmmm?” he muses. 

He runs a hand up Cale’s torso, stopping to thumb at Cale’s nipple through his shirt. Cale hisses at that and presses up into Conor’s hand. “Conor…”

“You like that, baby?” Conor asks, pushing up Cale’s shirt to press kisses along the waistband of Cale’s pants. Cale whines, trying to grind up against him, but Conor pins his hips to the bed.

“Fuck–– oh my god,” Cale gasps, covering his face. Conor grins. 

“None of that, come on baby,” Conor grins, moving a hand down to press the heel of his palm to Cale’s dick. That gets a beautiful moan from Cale, who bucks up into Conor’s touch. “There you are,” Conor murmurs. He gives Cale’s dick a squeeze before sliding his hands up under Cale’s shirt.

He takes a minute to just run his hands over Cale’s stomach and chest, enjoying the heat of his skin and the way his muscles tense under Conor’s touch. He wants to get his mouth on Cale, though, so eventually he pushes the shirt up and urges Cale up just enough to pull the shirt off over his head. 

Conor just looks, at first, watching the flush on Cale’s cheeks spread down his chest under Conor’s gaze. “Look at you. You’re incredible,” Conor says. He bends down and bites at Cale’s collar bone. “I just want to mark up every inch of your skin.”

“Fuck,” Cale says, reaching down to touch himself but Conor moves it away. “Do it, please––”

Conor grins, marking across Cale’s collarbone. “Baby, I can’t handle it, you’re so good.”

Cale gasps. “Okay, you need to take off my pants, _please_.”

Conor hums, unbuttoning Cale’s pants and pulling them down far enough that he can jerk Cale off without anything getting ruined. Coincidentally, Conor just has to squeeze Cale’s cock after he wraps a hand around him, twist his hand up, and Cale’s coming, shouting into his bicep.

The sight of Cale, face and chest flushed, come streaking his abs and still in his jeans renders Conor nearly speechless. He looks utterly debauched and Conor _wants_ with an overwhelming intensity. “Holy fuck, look at you. Can I fuck you, baby? God, I wanna be inside you.”

Cale whimpers, but he nods. “Please, Con.”

Conor works Cale’s pants down and pulls them off before unceremoniously stripping his own clothes off. He rifles through his bag to find the lube and condoms he has stashed in there and tosses both on the bed before moving to kiss Cale. “You want to stay like this while I open you up?”

Cale flushes, nodding. “Wanna see you,” he says.

Conor climbs up to kiss Cale. “you do?”

“Always,” Cale says, kissing him deeply. “Could you… come inside me?”

Conor’s dick throbs as Cale looks so so shy about it. “You want me to?”

“Please,” he says, looking up at Conor through his lashes and what can Conor do but oblige?

Conor kisses him one last time before he settles between Cale’s legs with the bottle of lube. He runs his hands over the soft skin at the inside of Cale’ thighs, just teasing, not touching Cale where he wants to be touched. Cale starts to squirm, which Conor takes as his cue to drizzle lube on his fingers and rub one gently over Cale’s hole. He intends to drag it out, tease Cale a little more, but Cale presses back and his finger sinks in to the first knuckle. 

“You’re so easy for it, baby. So good for me.” Conor eases his finger the rest of the way in. Cale makes a noise that Conor would almost call a purr, this contented little groan, and Conor bends down to nip at Cale’s hip. 

Conor works his finger in and out, making a point to graze over Cale’s prostate occasionally but never hit it fully. Cale catches onto his game pretty quickly and tilts his hips, trying to force Conor to touch where he wants him. “Is there something you want?” Conor asks, grinning up at him. 

Cale whines, flushing dark. “Stop teasing,” he says.

“That’s not what I think you want,” Conor raises an eyebrow. Cale whimpers.

“Fuck, touch my prostate, make me come, _please,_” Cale begs.

Conor hums. “I’ve got you, baby,” he says, pushing another finger in and pressing against Cale’s prostate fully. 

Cale absolutely wails, grinding back against Conor’s fingers. “Oh, _Conor!_”

Conor has to press his free hand against his dick to relieve some of the pressure. The way Cale sounded saying his name like that, desperate and fucked out, is doing all kinds of things to him. Cale looks absolutely blissed out, dick fully hard again as he works himself on Conor’s fingers. Conor holds his hand still just to watch Cale buck and grind to get Conor’s fingers where he wants them. 

“You’re so hot, Cale, god,” he says, starting to move his hand again. “Think you’re ready for three? Or should I keep you like this for a little longer?”

Cale reaches for him. “Another, please, give me another, I’m ready.” He’s not lying; the third finger slides in easily next to the others, and Conor feels Cale clench down around him. He rewards Cale with a firm press against his prostate and Cale moans. 

“You feel so good, baby. Can’t wait to get my dick in you, come inside you.” Conor keeps pressing against Cale’s prostate, chasing the noises he makes each time. 

“I–– I’m close, Con,” Cale says, his voice quavering as Conor bites at Cale’s hipbone. “I need to come, let me––”

“I got you,” Conor says, curling and stretching his fingers before rubbing against Cale’s prostate. “You need me to get a hand on you?”

“No I––more,” he begs. “Please,” he says, and Conor curls his fingers one more time and Cale’s arching off the bed, coming again.

“Oh my god,” Conor says, utterly speechless. “You really just did that.”

“I like being teased, kind of a lot,” Cale says, flushing.

“That was probably the hottest thing that’s ever happened in my life. We can do that literally whenever you want,” Conor says reverently. Cale beams at him. “Also, how do you feel about getting fucked now? If that’s gonna be too much, that’s totally fine, but also I really, _really_ want to fuck you.”

Cale shudders under him. “Please.”

“You mean it?” Conor asks, and Cale nods. Conor grabs the bottle of lube and slicks up his cock, then lines it up. “Ready?” Cale nods again and presses his hips back. Conor slides in slowly, pushing in until his hips are flush with Cale’s ass. 

Cale hisses, wrapping his legs around Conor’s hips. “Fuck, you can move.”

Conor pulls out and grinds back in, grinning when Cale whines. “God, you’re incredible.”

“Look who’s––talking,” Cale says, gasping when Conor changes the position, gripping his leg and pushing in, hitting Cale’s prostate. “Fuck, _Conor_.”

Conor stays like that, keeping as steady a rhythm as he can while making sure he keeps driving into Cale’s prostate. The noises Cale makes are incredible, these gasps and broken moans that Conor wants to listen to forever. 

“You feel so good, baby. You’re so good, sound so good, wanna stay like this forever,” Conor says, and he feels Cale clench down on him. “Fuck, do that again.”

Cale does it again and Conor has to pause and take a breath. Cale is so hot and tight around him and when he clenches down, it’s almost overwhelming. Apparently he waits too long to start back up, because Cale starts to squirm. 

“C’mon, c’mon, need you to move,” Cale says as he grips Conor’s shoulders. 

“I’ve got you, baby,” Conor says, starting back up again. Cale absolutely whines, digging his heels in the small of Conor’s back. 

“God, fuck, I need––” Cale moves to wrap his hand around his dick, but Conor swats his hand away and grips Cale’s cock. Cale practically whimpers, trying to grind against Conor and thrust into his hand. “More, please!”

Conor leans down, taking one of Cale’s nipples in his mouth, rolling it between his lips. He moves up to kiss Cale’s neck, leaving mark after mark as he goes along.

Cale whimpers as Conor does his very best to wreck him. After all the teasing and the way Cale is grinding back on him, Conor desperately wants to come, but more than that, he wants to see if he can get Cale off again. He bites his way up Cale’s neck to his ear. “Think you can come again for me, baby?”

Cale moans and looks up at him with wide eyes. “I don’t––I want to, please, Con, please make me come again.” 

“That’s it, baby, you’re so good, come on, you can come for me, want you to come again,” Conor lets the words pour out as he thrusts into Cale and jacks him off. He’s not entirely sure what he’s saying––he knows he tells Cale how good he’s being and how incredible he looks, but mostly he’s just focused on getting Cale to come so he can finally come too. 

Conor leans down and catches one of Cale’s nipples between his teeth as he thrusts in against Cale’s prostate and Cale wails. There’s almost nothing left when he comes, just a tiny spurt against his already messy stomach, but the way he tightens around Conor’s dick sends Conor tumbling over the edge too. 

“Fuck, oh my god,” Cale laughs breathlessly as he comes down, pressing a kiss to Conor’s shoulder. “That was––”

“Insane?” Conor grins. “Incredible?”

“Insanely hot.” Cale grins, though he whines as Conor pulls out. “Fuck––”

“Don’t get hard again,” Conor says, laughing. “I don’t think I can go again.”

“I don’t think I have any left,” Cale says. “Think we scarred the boys?”

“Well, you didn’t call me Daddy, so,” Conor grins, raising an eyebrow.

“I can, if you want,” Cale grins wickedly.

Conor flops onto the bed. “Let’s hold off on that one for a bit. I don’t think our sex life needs any additional spicing up right now.” He laughs as Cale curls up against him. “Plus, if I’m being totally honest, I need a little longer to not associate that with Sam and EJ. I love them, but I really don’t need to be thinking about them during sex.”

Cale giggles. “Okay, I guess that’s reasonable.”

“So glad you think so,” Conor says, and presses a kiss to the top of Cale’s head. “Now, what are your feelings about a shower?”

Cale hums, considering. “You might have to carry me. I don’t know if my legs work anymore.”

“I can do that,” Conor says softly, picking Cale up bridal style. “Promise I won’t make any moves in the shower.”

“Good,” Cale grins. Conor laughs––a couple of weeks ago, he’d have never thought he’d be in a relationship with the guy of his dreams, and now look at him.

“My Canadian sweetheart,” Conor says softly, carrying him into the bathroom. 

“I still can’t believe you wrote me a song,” Cale murmurs. 

“I’m going to write you an entire album,” Conor says and then presses a soft kiss to Cale’s lips. “But first, shower and then maybe a nap.”

“Shower, then nap,” Cale hums. “Let’s do this.”

“Go team,” Conor grins.

“Go team.”

**Author's Note:**

> we've been working on this for SO long. we hope you love this story as much as we do!!!!!!!


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